"Now, if you'd all like to turn to the final section of the Matherson Fraud Report I'll direct you to the table of falsified documents confiscated during the 2009-2010 financial year."

Peter turned to the electronic whiteboard and used his laser pointer to indicate the table on the screen. But before he had a chance to continue, the image flickered and distorted before disappearing completely. Peter heard a couple of the senior agents sitting around the table chuckle and snigger at the technical glitch. 'How rude,' Peter muttered under his breath, knowing he was safe to make the statement while his back was to the group. He pressed several buttons on his laptop, attempting to get the image to reappear and once again, a round of impolite laughter could be heard from the professional group of peers who certainly should have known better. Peter wished he hadn't sent Jones on an errand to refill the coffee pot – the junior agent was far more technically minded than he could ever hope to be. Peter's cheeks began to heat up as he worked frantically to bring back the presentation image onto the electronic white board. While he continued to press every button on every gadget wired up to the white board, he couldn't ignore the growing rabble behind him that had begun as mere giggles but was rapidly escalating into full-blown hysteria. What was it with these people? Were there lives so excruciatingly boring they found this simple computer glitch the funniest thing they'd ever seen. Peter had never been so embarrassed in his whole life. He'd hoped to make a wonderful new impression on his senior colleagues and here they were, laughing him out of the room. Where had it all gone wrong? He'd been ever so prepared for this meeting and it all came crashing down in a matter of minutes, not due to his incompetence but because of his misguided reliance on technology. And while Peter was certain it had happened to everyone in the room at some point in time, he guessed not everyone had the misfortune of having it happen in front of their esteemed peers. Taking a deep breath, Peter put on his best face and turned to face the ridiculously immature group of federal agents.

Now there are moments in life when you just want to crawl under a bed and never ever come out - this wasn't one of those moments for Agent Burke. This was one of those moments when you want to scream at the top of your lungs for all its worth and wring the neck of any poor individual silly enough to walk within reach while you're in the middle of your meltdown! Sadly for Agent Burke, under the circumstances he was unable to play out either of those suggestions even though every fiber of his being wanted him to go with the 'screaming scenario.'

Schooling his features and holding his chin high, Peter ignored the chuckles, stepped around to the opposite end of the table and scooped his brightly decorated puppy off the floor. He retrieved the mostly unrecognizable SP04 form from Satchmo's mouth and immediately the puppy began to lick his owner's face. More laughing ensued as Peter removed the FBI Visitor badge that some smart alec had wrapped around Satch's collar.

One of the agents sitting up the back couldn't help himself, "We all know how hard the budget cuts have affected each and every division Agent Burke, but if we'd known you were having to resort to hiring staff that were happy to be paid in pet food, we'd have happily chipped in." His comment elicited another massive round of laughter.

"At the same time, Agent Burke," this time a comment came from a middle aged woman from the Washington branch, "If you are going to employ personnel of the four legged variety, I'm pleased to see you've chosen to recruit someone with a sense of style and a desire to look their best for the occasion; although personally, I don't consider hot pink dressy enough for the FBI."

Peter looked around the room. Some of the agents were laughing so hard they were holding their chests and bending forward, while others had tears spilling down their faces. Pressing his lips together, he saw no humor in the situation and excused himself from the room. He passed a shocked Jones, carrying a full pot of coffee at the top of the stairs. Clinton took one look at Peter's face and the puppy he was nursing under his arm and knew better than to make any comment, certainly if he intending on keeping his job!

Peter continued on past the junior agent and observed two tiny sets of wide eyes trailing his movements through the glass walls of his office. He swung opened the door and stood glaring at his two miscreants, willing them to say something. But it seemed Jones wasn't the only one smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Mozzie and Neal stood silently before their father, waiting for the inevitable eruption. Even Agent Goldberg who stood stock still behind Peter's desk, totally flabbergasted by this latest development, wasn't silly enough to bring attention to herself. After what seemed like an eternity, Peter stepped over and passed Satchmo into Mozzie's awaiting arms. The older man looked for a moment like he was going to say something but suddenly turned on his heels and exited the room. It's three remaining occupants released their breaths in synchronization and visibly relaxed.

Angela was the first to find her voice, "Your dad didn't appear happy boys." Understatement of the century! "Where did the puppy come from?" The young agent was all confused.

"Fwom da meeting woom."

"Before that Neal. Is he yours?"

"Yeah Agent Goldberg, he's ours. His name is Satchmo. I brought him from home."

"This morning? Well…where's he been all this time?" There were so many pieces of this puzzle that Angela was unable to get her head around.

"Oh, here and there." Mozzie tried to sound nonchalant but the agent didn't buy it for a second.

"Well not here!" Angela waved her arm around to indicate the room. "This is the first time I've laid eyes on him." For sure she would have noticed a puppy roaming the halls, and a ridiculously decorative one at that! She had to ask, "Did something happen to him?"

"Like?" Mozzie pretended to have no idea what she was talking about.

"Like maybe he knocked over a discarded colored ink cartridge or maybe you boys left your colouring pens on the ground and he brushed up against them or maybe he fell into a bucket of wet paint?"

"I di it adent oldbug." Neal was quite embarrassed at having to admit to his crime.

"Oh, I see….Why?

Neal shrugged, "Fowr fun?"

"Mmm..and your dad didn't mind?"

"Ha, he minded alright. Peter turned Neal over his knees and swatted his butt soundly to show him just how much he minded."

"Mozzzzzz!" Neal was rather annoyed that his older brother should bring up that very unpleasant memory.

Angela changed the direction of the conversation before she had a sibling fist fight on her hands. "So, let me get this straight, the puppy has been here all morning?"

"Correct."

"And you brought him in when you arrived with your dad this morning?"

"Correct again."

"But I'm thinking, partly from your dad's reaction a moment ago and partly from the fact that it'd be highly unlikely to pick this very important occasion of your father's first senior agent division presentation to include 'bringing your family pet to work day', that he had no idea your Satchmo was here?"

"Correct – three for three." Mozzie was feeling cocky enough to enjoy the game.

Angela walked over and patted the object of all the fuss. Satchmo licked her hand, obviously enjoying all the attention. "Can I ask something I have no earthly idea the answer to?"

"Of course."

"How did you get your puppy into the office without your dad knowing about him?" After all, Peter was a seasoned FBI agent, it was almost going to be deflating to find out the answer to this one.

"Not that difficult really. Peter was way too stressed out in the car on the way in here to notice anything other than the New York morning traffic. And when we got here, that part was easy. I had borrowed one of the towels from home and wrapped it around Satchmo's body – he likes it when I do that and he usually curls up and nods off to sleep, which is what he did. He had his little head poking out of the towel and while we were waiting for the elevators, some unpleasant lady almost gave the game away when she mentioned out loud that Satch looked comical. Most of the other people waiting just smiled and were too busy thinking about themselves to say anything."

"What about your dad, didn't he see you carrying the pup?"

"He hab a normous box." Neal stretched his arms out as far as they could go.

"And he couldn't see properly over the top of it." Mozzie stroked Satchmo's head. "I was able to block his view with my backpack or Neal would distract him for me. So you see, it was fairly simple to get Satch in here without being noticed." The older boy was ever so proud of his scheming.

The young agent shook her head, slightly disturbed that two little innocents were anything but. "So back to the questions I already know the answers to…You deliberately went out of your way to deceive your father when you brought your puppy into the office this morning?"

"Uh, well, no he told us to bring something to entertain ourselves."

"But you kept it from him so you knew it was wrong, and you knew he would say no if you asked him."

Mozzie conceded with a defeated sigh, "Correct."

"Your puppy interrupted your father's meeting, which as we all saw, he was most unhappy about. Plus I'm guessing that little trip off the reservation earlier when you got lost after I took you to the bathroom had something to do with puppy."

Mozzie shook his head but replied in the affirmative, "Correct again."

"Now you've already admitted that your dad doesn't have an issue with spanking. Some parents don't believe in smacking their children but it sounds like your parents don't fall into that category." Mozzie had no comment on that subject so Angela continued. "Here's my final question, and then I'll get back to my report – part 43! Taking into account everything you've done today, I don't think your father will laugh it off and say anything like, 'Oh forget about it, these things happen.' I'm thinking it's a more likely scenario that he's going to make his displeasure know on your backsides. Am I correct?" Agent Goldberg watched as the color drained out of their faces, yet again. Perhaps she was being a little harsh but the boys had taken advantage of her all morning, and well, if you were going to play with fire, you had to know you could be burnt! When Mozzie didn't respond she answered for him, "Correct? Three for three, Mozzie?"

Mozzie was way too miffed to answer but his little brother wasn't. "C'wect agent oldbug. Fwee fowr fwee."