Neal had dinner that night with Rebny and Mozzie at a nice restaurant. They talked mostly old times and small talk first. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Neal." Patrick Rebny said calmly. "I've heard good things." The man had a wise, clever air about him. He looked aged more by events than time's passage. his blue grey eyes sparkled, contrasting with his dark skin.

"I've heard a lot too." Neal said carefully.

"So why don't you tell me why you really wanted to meet so urgently? And let me say in advance: I really am out of the business."

"So I've heard. But..." he glanced at Mozzie, almost questioning. Should he tell him? Moz shrugged. "What if I told you, a recent forgery was discovered with your signature."

"How recent?"

"Since you retired."

"Impossible. Only paintings I do now are originals, and I sell those for charity."

Neal nodded slowly, sipping his wine. "The FBI has this forgery."

Rebny's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Look son, I am retired. What are you getting at?"

"If you didn't forge it, then someone has forged you forging it. Who would want to do that?"

Rebny's eyes took on a far away look. "You know the game son. We do make enemies. Why do you care about it?"

Neal twirled the glass lightly, considering. After a second, he glanced around. Mozzie had chosen a secluded corner to sit where watchers would have been obvious. He carefully pulled out the consultant ID and showed it to him.

Rebny looked skeptical, eyes scanning the room for Feds. "This some kind of trap or is that evidence of your forgery skills?"

"Neither. Look, they didn't recognize the whole signature, but they are running down everyone who has 'Reb' in the name that's been on their radar. Sooner or later, you'll come up. And my partner, Peter...Agent Burke, he'll find out sooner or later. So if it's not you, we'd best find a way to get ahead of it, figure out who might forge a painting and put your signature to it"

Rebny looked genuinely concerned now. "What kind of man is this Agent Burke?"

" He got me this job as consultant wearing the tracker so I don't have to rot in jail." Neal's lip curled in a half smile. "We have our differences, but I'll allow he's trying to help me even if we don't agree on the specifics."

Rebny chuckled at this. "I can picture what that means!" He nodded, also nursing his glass. He glanced at Mozzie. "If I say I want to meet him, and help find this guy, will he slap the cuffs on or will he listen?"

Mozzie's jaw dropped. "You want to take that risk? Trusting a Fed?"

"I'd rather risk it in private than have them march in publicly. Think what it would do to the people I'm trying to help."

Neal nodded. "I'll talk to him."

Peter motioned Neal into his office first thing in the morning. "Know anything about this guy?" He handed him Patrick Rebny's file. He's one of the few 'Rebs' we've run down that's not dead, in prison, or otherwise accounted for." Peter was watching him closely.

Neal closed the door. "He's retired and he wants to meet you."

Peter looked taken aback. Then his eyes narrowed. Knowing Neal knew more than he was saying was expected. Finding out the suspect wanted to meet him was another matter."

"What? Where do you get that?"

Neal sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly, watching Peter warily. "Rebny retired after 9/11. He and his crew were going to pull a job in the world trade center that day."

Peter winced.

"His wife wanted him to drop the job. She went there to persuade him. But he was running late. She got there first. He was in sight of the towers when...they came down."

"And she never came back."

Neal shook his head. "They had three kids. Rebny swore afterward he'd never pull a job again. He started volunteering, working with charities. Any stash he had was given away to help people in need. He got a regular job working with them and all his art now is legit. It goes for charity too. It's his way of honoring her."

Peter stared at him. "Yet we have a recent forgery."

"Yes. And it doesn't make any sense. The only thing that comes to mind is someone wants us to think it's him."

"Forging the forger?" Peter sounded slightly incredulous.

Neal shrugged. "It's not unheard of. Rebny is good. He made enemies. He probably still does, though now it's for different reasons."

Peter leaned back in his chair, twirling a pen and frowning. "You said he wants to meet. Does that mean you've already talked to him?"

"We had dinner."

Peter glared at him.

"Oh come on," Neal responded to the disapproval radiating from the agent. "Think what happens if I'm right and this is a set up. All those charities he's supported and his family will be affected too. It's not the kind of damage you can just undo."

"Is that why he wants to meet? To talk me out of pursuing him?"

"He wants to figure out who is imitating him so it doesn't come back on his people." Neal paused. His eyes held his partner's. "Peter, you said people can change." He leaned forward in his seat. "Don't blow up this guy's new life without hearing him out."

Peter shook his head slowly, considering the risks. "So much," he noted, "for imitation being the sincerest form of flattery."