"Listen up," Peter said, walking into the packed conference room. "Diana needs to be within twenty yards of Helen at all times, so we're gonna lend a hand. First up, we need a lock for a residential door," he read from her list. "Ultra-secure, state of the art."

"I got a guy," he heard the kid. He sat by a window. "He'll even do the road work for you."

"Mozzie?" Peter asked and got a blank face and a little shrug in return. He really had no time for this. "I want the master key. All right, who here speaks Portuguese?" One of the probies raised a hand. "Good. You get to translate a communiqué."

"What's a supaiku-bot?" Neal asked, reading over his shoulder.

"I don't know. Some kind of robot hedgehog toy. I'll get that. Jones, you're gonna run point and handle decorations."

"So, streamers and a couple of balloons?"

"Mm-hmm," Peter nodded.

"No. No, no, no." Something told him he should listen to the kid.

"No? No. No." Peter sighed. "We are in way over our heads, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

Peter smiled when he saw the solution.

"We need a ringer."

"Yeah. And I hope you think of the same as I do."

"El?"

"Of course."

She would love to handle a birthday party with an oversized budget; he was sure of it.

"Why didn't you say so?" he asked his pet convict.

"You remember what you told me last time I made her arrange a party for the Bureau?"

"Ah, hum, yeah. This will be another exception to that rule. Jones, you go there and help my wife with the party. Do your cowboy thing."

"His cowboy thing?" Neal asked.

"All kids love a cowboy."

"Wasn't it a space-themed party?" The kid glanced at the list.

"And kids are known for their imagination and ability to mix things we adults have lost the vision for."

To Neal's surprise, Moz presented him with a rather simple lock mounted on a sample door to a box.

"You wanted the locks they got at the White House," Moz said with an eager grin. "These are better. Try it."

"The Zhviegel Millennium?" he asked in disbelief. "I won't even need my picks. I'll just bump it." He took a hammer and a big nail, found the weak spot, and knocked gently with the hammer. Nothing happened.

"Ah." Mozzie sounded pleased. "But with my modifications, it is unlike any other Zhviegel on the market."

Neal grinned and picked out his lockpicks. He worked with the lock.

"Tension's unreadable. I'm impressed."

"That lock is so complex, it is only rivaled by my mind."

Neal was not so sure of that.

The lock clicked open.

Mozzie, on his way out to the patio, sure of himself, burst back and stared at the little open door.

"Oh, I used the hook," Neal explained. "It was tough, though. If you added another pin—"

"Ah, a bluff inside the cylinder." Mozzie was on it at once. "This and a wedge under the door, and Helen Anderson's townhouse will be more secure than Fort Knox."

"Which, as we know, has its own weaknesses," Neal smiled. He had been inside once and left a message. Something he had never read anything about in any paperwork. "Speaking of, where's Diana's briefcase?"

"Oh, she took it back to the Sheagle's nest. We've only got two days to get it."

Perfect. That was what he hoped for. He was already going over with Sarah.

"Don't worry, Moz. I'll cook something up."

"Hey," Peter said to two guys who had just got their truck ready to be unloaded. "Heard you guys got a shipment. Special agent Peter Burke, FBI." He showed them his badge. "I'm commandeering a supaiku-bot."

The two guys stared at him. Then one of them ripped one of the big boxes open and handed him a toy box saying Supaiku-bot on it. He smiled at its stupid face. It made a sound at him. The first toy he ever bought as an adult is in the line of duty. Once, he had walked through toy stores hoping to buy something, but the child they hoped for never came.

He drove down to the party that had just started. He saw Jones in a cowboy hat entertaining the kids and his lovely wife arranging three cakes. He then realized that the gift was not wrapped in paper.

El saw him and jogged over.

"I've got the gift," he said.

"By the panic on your face, I guess it is not gift-wrapped." He nodded. "Go to my car. There are a few of those big gift bags in the back seat. Just put in inside, and I'll do the rest."

Peter relaxed.

"Thanks, hon. Oh, can you take some photos and send to Diana, show that the party is arranged?"

"Sure."

She gave him a kiss and returned to her duties at the party. Peter took the toy to her car and put it in a silver bag.

Three hours later, Diana called him.

"I'm driving her to the meeting. You should've seen her face when I showed her I was done. I even gave her her five-thirty wheat-grass smoothie. Thanks, Peter."

"My pleasure. Stay safe tonight."

Later, eating dinner with his wife, Diana called again.

"What happened?" Peter asked.

"She met with her source, I watched at a distance. Saw another person on the other side pulling a gun, I ran in, and warned them. The source ran. He gave her a thumb drive, but didn't give Helen a name. At least, that's what she told me. I dropped her home. You want me to double back for a stakeout?"

"No need. We've got an unmarked car on her house. Good work today. Get some rest."

"If you insist. Good night, Peter."

Neal heard Diana outside the door, talking, probably on the phone. She unlocked the door and opened it.

"What smells so g—"

Neal and Sara turned from the cooking.

"Hey!"

"Hi, honey," Christie said, lying the table.

Neal almost felt sorry for his colleague. Coming home, tired, and facing a party. Not everyone's dream.

"People always say they're gonna get together, and they never do," Neal said, "so I called Christie."

"And here we are." Diana glared at him.

"Here we are," he smiled back at her. Did she guess the real reason for his visit? Well, he hoped that she knew how to combine that with some fun too. "And dinner is just about ready."

She said that Diana disappeared to freshen her up, and Neal and Sara put everything on the table. When she returned, they sat down and ate.

Neal and Sara and Christie had the best of times.

"Neal, this risotto's delicious. I need one more bite."

"Contraband cheese," Diana said, softening up a bit. "Caffrey, I should fine you and confiscate the dairy."

"Hey, don't take your day with Helen out on me."

"Oh, don't get me started. Actually, I could use your help with this. Her source gave her a flash drive with these numbers on it and no explanation."

"Patent I.D.s, formula files?" Neal guessed.

"Nope." Diana shook her head. "They don't correspond with Zybax or any P&V product."

"Maybe samples," Christie said. "I could check in the hospital pharmacy tomorrow."

"Thank you." They killed.

Christie looked at Sara.

"How about you, Sara? What do you do?"

She was about to answer, but Neal got ahead of her.

"She is in insurance," Neal said.

"Oh, the kind that sends me mountains of paperwork?"

"No. No, no." Sara chuckled. "But if your Rodin goes missing, please call me."

"Oh, insurance recovery."

"Yes."

"Wait a minute," Christie said. "That means that— "

"That's right," Diana interrupted. "He steals 'em. She gets 'em back."

"Wow. I've got to know how you both met!"

"She has been after me for a looong time," Neal admitted with a wide grin.

"Oh! Oh, my God!" Sara laughed. "He stole a Raphael. "

"Objection, Your Honor," Neal protested.

"And I pursued. And I haven't forgotten about the Raphael."

"Ohh!" the couple on the other side of the table really enjoyed themselves.

"We're boring," Neal told Sara. "Anyway, how about you two? How'd you two meet?"

"It's a really cute story," Christie said.

"Oh, they don't want to hear it," Diana chopped it off.

"Yeah. I want to hear it," Neal said. He really did.

"I'm good. We — I'll just be — No, I'm good. I'm just gonna..." Diana rose and walked over to start with the dishes.

"Wow. You know, you are just like my friend Wally Burns," Neal said. "It took him forever to tell me how he met his wife." He turned to Sara. "You remember Wally, right? I told you about him."

"Yeah, I remember Wally," she said. "Um, dinner-party rules. You guys cooked, so Diana and I —"

"Get dessert," Diana filled in.

"Yes," Sara smiled. "And more wine."

"Thank you so much," Neal said.

"Thank you," Christie agreed.

Alone with Christie and time to find some secrets.

"So, you and Diana —" She rose, avoiding the subject. "Come on. You were her doctor? Krav Maga?"

"I'm not gonna tell you." She sat down on the sofa, and Neal joined her.

"All right, fine. How was dinner the other night?"

"Oh, it was great," she said.

"When I eat at Babbo, I like to go to this bar around the corner, Simone's."

"I love Simone's," Christie smiled at him. He had hit a chord.

"Yeah?"

"We came straight home," Christie said. "We both had work to do."

"Oh. Laptops in bed? Sounds romantic."

"Very." Dripping with sarcasm. "I researched Stents, and Di finished up for a morning meeting."

"A meeting before her day with Helen?" Neal said. "Sounds like a busy day."

"She had to drop something off."

The next second, Diana hovered over them, glaring at her girlfriend.

"You told him, didn't you?"

"Told me what?" Neal said, innocent as a baby.

"Yeah, nice try, Caffrey. How we met!"

"I didn't tell him," Christie said truthfully.

"I thought it was cute," Neal said.

"There's nothing cute about pottery class," Diana said.

"Yes! Pottery class!" Neal burst, finally hearing the story. "So much better than I ever could have imagined."

Diana stared at him, realizing she had given up the information.

"Oh no."

"And that would have explained..." Neal pointed at the highly original salad bowl they had had on the dinner table, now in Sara's hands.

"Yeah, well, I made that," Diana sighed.

"Oh, uh, I mean, I think that it's lovely," Sara tried.

"Ditto," Neal said at once.

"Oh, yeah. All right, let's get all the 'Ghost' jokes out of the way — 'Unchained Melody,' slide a penny up the wall…"

"It's supposed to be round, right?" Neal asked.

"It's absolutely hideous," Diana laughed.

They ate dessert, and afterward, Neal found that he was alone by the table with Diana. Had Diana made a Wally Burns too?

"So, why are you here, Caffrey?"

She looked at him, and Neal knew that look. It was the same look Diana had given him in that hotel room where they had pretended to be a customer and a prostitute. They had shared a lot that hour. Almost anything but the bed.

"We've had a great time, haven't we?"

"You're not answering my question, Neal."

"Have I misunderstood something?" He frowned. "I thought we agreed to a date night this week. I guess I should've called in advance, right?"

She kept looking at him, and he felt she was disappointed in him. Part of him knew that he should be ashamed. But they had had genuinely fun. That was no trick or act. And he could not afford to get in the real trouble that awaited if he did not get hold of that list.

He and Sara left for the night and walked home.

"We get a cab," she suggested. "I pay."

"I think it is a beautiful evening for a walk. Don't you?"

She looked at him, hooked his arm in his, and joined his stroll.

"You aren't allowed a cab, right?"

"Me moving too fast is not appreciated."

"What would you've done if Diana lived outside your radius?"

"I'll guess I would have had to send Mozzie instead," he answered truthfully.

"Seriously," she laughed. "Would you've called Peter and asked if you could surprise your colleague?"

"Probably not."

They walked home. The air was hot between them. They hardly got inside until she kissed him.

"So, why did we run a Wally Burns on Diana's girlfriend?" she asked.

"I can't tell you."

"Oh. Okay." She was not pleased.

"Hold on. You don't give me details about your job."

"Yeah," she agreed. "I could probably live with a secret or two. "

"I could handle that," Neal nodded.

"Yeah?" She was all over him. And he followed along. Eager to be with her, in her. They landed on top of his bed, she on top.

Then the door opened.

"Neal. Did you get it?" Mozzie! "Oh. Get a room!"

"We are in a room," Sara yelled back at Mozzie and slid off him.

"My room!" Neal pointed out, rising.

"That hurts," Moz said, undisturbed and apparently with no intention of leaving. "Next time I make a lock, I guess it should be for 'your' door." He took two wine glasses from the cupboard.

"Or there is this thing called knocking!" Sara said, arranging her clothes.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," Neal stopped Sara. "You're leaving?"

"Mood sufficiently killed," she declared. "Call me later. Or come over."

"Sure," Moz answered, holding the two glasses. Sara glared at him.

"Not you."

To Neal's regret, she left.

"Seriously, just put a sock on the doorknob," Moz said as if it was all his fault that Moz had walked in on their intimate moment. His friend, with all his brains, still lacked certain skills that came naturally to others.

"Yeah," Neal muttered.

"Any leads on the list?"

He uncorked a bottle of wine and filled their glasses.

"Diana met with agent Matthews yesterday. She gave her the list." He was not a hundred percent sure, of course, but sure enough.

"Ah, fair Melissa." Mozzie smiled. "She's an easier mark than badass Berrigan."

"You realize that list is on lockdown in her hotel room."

"Yeah, we just rip out a page from our own playbook. We know when Melissa is heading out of town."

"We swap the briefcases when she leaves for the airport," Neal smiled.

"Difficulties mastered are opportunities won," Mozzie said, handing him a glass. Neal was not in the mood for more than one reason.

"Some of us have work in the morning."