Patrick Rebny looked from Neal Caffrey to Peter Burke. He had been picked up discreetly and not officially arrested.

"So..." he paused, frowning. "You want me to con my own kids?"

Peter glanced sidelong at Neal. "We can prove you were painting a copy of a painting, that may or not have been intended to be sold as a forgery. . But we don't believe that's what happened. You do realize if your kids did this, and we believe they did, and you are protecting them, they are minors and probably were under pressure?"

"I'm not saying anything yet." Patrick replied slowly. "But I'm listening."

"We want Philrone. If we can prove that your son owed him and was pressured to pay him back with a painting, we have him on extortion. But we have to know the details. Right now we don't have all the connections. Why forge your name? Was it Philrone's idea? Or did he think your son would run to you and he could get you to do it out of desperation?"

"What exactly would I have to do?"

"I'll go in undercover as a high roller." Neal said. "But you can't give away who I am. We won't get honest answers from the kids if they are scared of this guy and they know who we are. They might warn Philrone. And no offense...but they might not give honest answers to you either."

"You think they'd lie to me?" Patrick's blue gray eyes eyes narrowed.

"Did they tell you about this? You obviously didn't know before we came to you. They might be ashamed of themselves. They might not want you to know. They might be afraid of Philrone. There are a lot of reasons they might."

"Yeah." Patrick sighed. "They're old enough to remember me lying to people. I didn't lie to their Mom. But still. I was no role model."

Peter was still studying Neal. "Yeah. I know it can be hard to lie to people you care about, even if it's for their own good."

Neal noticed Peter's gaze and he stared back for a moment. He looked away sharply after a moment, lips tight.

"What about...will they be charged with anything?" Patrick worried.

"They're kids. I'm sure we can offer either immunity or at least a deal. Either way, they're minors."

"I'll do it, to save them. But it's a long time since I did this, and never to my kids." He looked troubled. "I just hope they'll forgive me."

"Okay, you said the boys will be home this weekend." Peter observed. "We need you introduce Neal as a friend of a friend. We'll give you his alias by then."

Rebny nodded slowly and was allowed to leave. They watched him walk away.

Neal studied Peter carefully. "You still don't trust him."

"He's taking a leap of faith that we will be better for his kids than Philrone. But it's obvious he doesn't like lying to them."

"I should hope not!" Neal's voice was sharp with disapproval.

Peter was instantly reminded of Neal's reaction whenever he withheld from him. It was pretty odd, considering his own tendency to withhold the truth. "Neal, we're trying to help here."

"I know we are. But you want him to lie to his kids."

"What's your point?"

"They're family."

Peter filed this in his mental file on reasons to find out about Neal Caffrey's childhood.

It was three days until the weekend and it took that long to sort out the plan.

"Boys, this is Nick Halden. He's interested in buying some of my art."

"Nick, this is Rick and Sam." The boys nodded to him, shaking his hand politely.

Rick looked distracted, but Sam was intent. "Are you an artist too?"

"I dabble." Neal smiled.

"Excuse me a moment. Let me get out some of my work. Boys, will you keep Nick entertained?"

Neal sat down on a chair. The boys were on the couch.

Rick rolled his eyes. Sam offered him some soda.

Neal declined. His cell phone rang and he answered. "Halden."

"Show time." Peter replied. "We're ready here."

"Look, I told you, the games too small. I don't play small timers. I'm looking for a big game now. All I've been able to find is small timers lately."

Rick had finally stirred, showing interest. He kept glancing at him now. Sam was flipping through a sketch book . He found a page and started sketching with swift, smooth strokes.

Neal finally disconnected. He pulled out a pack of playing cards and started idly doing tricks with them. Ricky definitely was watching discreetly now.

Patrick came back in, bringing in three paintings. "Okay. Here they are."

"Nice." Neal studied them. They were unique, not forgeries. But the paint strokes were smooth, blends merging with no obvious transition. Light color streaked through darker edges, with fine contrast. His admiration was real. They spent some minutes negotiating price, Neal regretted he wasn't buying for real. Of course, he normally just stole artwork, but this one was for charity. He wouldn't steal from children or the needy. "Do you take cash?" Neal pulled out a wad of bills that definitely attracted the boy's attention.

"I can. But let me get you a receipt."

"You got somewhere to be? Or can you hang out for a bit."

"I've got some time." They chatted a few minutes and Rebny's house phone rang. Neal knew it was Peter giving him an opening.

"Excuse me a sec."

Rick finally spoke. "Where did you learn to do that?" He motioned to the playing cards he'd left on the arm of the chair.

"Oh, here and there." He smiled.

"You gamble?"

"Some." Neal's eyes sparkled. "I'm looking for a good game now in fact."

"If you are that hot, how come you don't get invited to games?" Rick demanded suspiciously. His dark eyes were tight with suspicion.

"I do. But I've been out of the area for awhile. Takes time for word to get around I'm back and up for a game."

Rick eyed him. "I might know someone who knows where the games are." He glanced sidelong at the door his father had left through. "I'd rather Dad didn't know I knew this guy though. He doesn't like his crowd anymore."

"Can you put me in touch?"

"Yeah. But he'll call you. After he checks you out."

In the van, Peter and Jones glanced at each other. "Now that sounds promising."

Neal glanced at the door Patrick had gone through. He leaned closer to the boys. "How do I know you are on the up and up. You don't exactly look like someone who'd know gamblers."

Rick shrugged. "What does a gambler look like? Dad used to know a lot of these kind of guys." The boy's dark eyes sparkled with excitement.

Neal recognized it instantly. The thrill of danger and taking a risk that came with pulling the con. This boy was on the brink of entering the life, lured by the promise of excitement and glamor.

"He used to forge art you know."

"Ricky!" Sam looked up sharply, alarmed. "You shouldn't tell him that."

"Well, he was good at it. We used to watch him doing it."

"He's good at doing his original stuff too."

"Yeah, but that's not as...as..."

Neal smiled slowly. "Exciting?"

They looked at him uncertainly.

"It's a gamble. Believe me, I know the lure." Neal smiled wryly.