/* Monday */

George Devore met his client as agreed upon at 10 am. He collected the icon painting along with instructions for the upcoming encounter with the insurance people. "Who's our man inside - or is it a woman?"

Orlov remained secretive. "You don't need to know yet. It's better if you act unbiased when you meet him."

After packing the icon painting, the conman was driven over to the insurance office. When he got there, he met three insurance representatives who explained the details of the expertizing process to him. The insurance officer in charge made out a receipt after he took the icon. He promised to call as soon as the expertise certificate came in.

Neal was none the wiser about the identity of the inside guy after the meeting. Back at Orlov's apartment, they discussed the next steps. The forger was requested to deliver the first icon replica within the next few days. His boss was skeptical about the quality of work and pressed to see proof in order to be convinced. The brilliant art forger was deeply insulted that his skills were challenged. Nevertheless, he put on a good face.

When Poppy called her husband outside to discuss some personal matters, Neal used the time to scan through the handwritten records on the desk. Orlov probably hadn't bothered to store them away because they were written in Cyrillic letters and obviously Russian.

Neal's Russian was a bit rusty, but he was still able to read the instructions to transfer 50 grand to a numbered account belonging to a Gerald Buckle. The key account executive he had met at the insurance company was named Gerald Buckle. Finally, he'd scored a direct hit. It would be a pleasure to reveal the information to his handler, proving that he actually had been able to solve the case, against all skepticism. That would teach him a lesson.

Some other phrases in the records attracted Neal's attention. By all appearances, there was more behind Orlov than insurance fraud; he was working a much bigger scheme. The CI shot some quick photos with his mobile.

Well before the mobster reappeared, Neal was relaxing in his chair again and seemed slightly bored. Soon after, he left the apartment and headed straight for the Bureau.

Burke evaluated the information. Fortunately, they had someone in their team who was able to translate the documents. Based on these evidences, it would be no problem to get a search warrant for Gerald Buckle's house and office. The agent was incredibly pleased about the photos Neal had taken.

"Well done, Neal! This was good work!"

The consultant raised his eyebrows. "Don't tax yourself in acknowledging my achievement... Now would be the time to admit that I was the perfect choice for this undercover job."

"As I said, well done. Are you out for brownie points?" Still, it was a friendly mockery in his handler's voice, taking off the sting from the sarcastic remark.

When Peter called Sara in London to share the news, she seemed very happy. "Buckle! That sleaze bag was envious that I got the job over here right from the beginning. I hope you find hard evidence to nail him down. How did you get the intel?"

Burke had put the call on speaker, and Neal chimed in. "You can thank me later! I hope to see you one day soon, here in New York. I would come over to visit you, but unfortunately, I'm currently a bit restricted."

"Caffrey? I told you to stay off this case. Do you ever listen when anyone tells you something? Peter, you promised me to keep him off; I didn't want to put him into danger." Sara wasn't amused.

Neal grinned and looked quite pleased with himself. "You're welcome."

Peter had started to explain why he hadn't kept his promise when Diana signaled him to come over. He cut the phone call short, but promised to account for it later.

Diana showed him the translated transcript created from the documents on the photos Neal had shot. Evidently, Orlov was laundering money for his father-in-law. They were using charity activities to launder money made in weapon trading. The documents revealed some intriguing details about the stream of cash as well as the people and organizations involved. They were talking about more than $100 million.

That afternoon, they were able to arrest Buckle. Soon after, he was already ratting out his clients, hoping to cut a good deal for himself with the FBI. His confession would be sufficient enough to whitewash Sara's reputation. When Peter tried to call her to give her an update, he reached only her mailbox. Secretly, he was relieved to have missed her. Sara probably would have given him a real telling-off about Neal's involvement. He hadn't told her about his plan. Peter knew he couldn't avoid her fury, but postponing it was just as good.

Unfortunately, the FBI hadn't been able to get hold of Orlov himself. The criminal wasn't at the apartment or at The Samovar or any other place they had searched. Meanwhile, the NYPD had been informed to be on the lookout for him. He wouldn't be able to leave the country either. Therefore, it would be only a matter of time until he was arrested.

The undercover operation was officially closed. They needed to finish the reports, but that could wait. Neal joined the team to investigate the money laundering scheme. There was a lot of research to do before a judge would issue search warrants for the high-level officials whose names were given in Orlov's notes. The photos from the documents were a good start, but they needed to bring forward more conclusive evidence.

It didn't come as a surprise when Jones approached Neal with the tracking anklet, smirking. "Look what I've got for you! You've probably missed her already."

"Oh yeah, missed it like a festering tooth." Neal stretched his leg and rested it on the conference room table to let Jones put on the anklet. Peter raised his eyebrows, mumbled something about bad manners and frowned at his consultant. This was just the sort of behavior Neal would have expected from him – before. Likewise, his own reaction hadn't been unusual either.

Walking home, Neal wondered if this would be the new normal - him acting like the cheeky, but useful CI and Peter being the tough agent with a heart of gold. Both of them pretending to be partners. It would only be a bogus imitation of their former relationship, far from being the real thing. He just didn't feel like he could unconditionally trust his handler anymore.

As a master forger, Neal knew a bit about replicas. He had made copies of paintings that were more skilled and capable in its details than the originals. But still, those replicas hadn't had the genuine brilliancy; they were missing that stroke of genius, the heart and soul. This consultant job would be an easy way of getting through the remaining years of his sentence.

Should he settle for a replica partnership or confront Peter to ask for a different handler? The agent himself had offered him this option. Maybe a fresh start without all the emotional entanglement would be best for everyone involved. But would another agent be willing to undergo the risk of handling a repeat offender? And would it be as much fun to work with someone else? He couldn't stand one of those dull, nitpicking Feds.

He needed Moz to discuss these ideas. As crazy as the little man was at times, he would be the perfect sounding board and ask ll the right questions in order to find the answers. By all appearances, Orlov would be arrested soon and once he wasn't posing a threat anymore, his friend would come out of hiding. Hopefully.

Peter was in a dither as well. This whole conning the conman mission had sounded like a great idea in the beginning. Admittedly, it had worked out so far. Neal seemed so much more alive nowadays and more like his usual reckless – almost temerarious - self.

But conning a partner wasn't right. That was one of the elementary rules of partnership. You simply don't lie to a partner. A partner could always rely on you to tell the truth. The agent felt miserable every time Neal worried about Mozzie. He couldn't help it, but, despite everything, he thought of Neal as a friend. He knew a friendship couldn't go only one-way. So, the ex-criminal wasn't actually a friend anymore. Peter knew this with his mind, but his heart was telling him different - that Neal was still a friend.

He should've known better than to try obtaining trust by devious means. Once the case was closed, the forced partnership would collapse like a house of cards. Whatever little trust his consultant might have still harbored would be gone as soon as he found about the con. He wished dearly he hadn't been so sagacious before he'd started to con his partner. Now, it was too late for regrets.

Maybe the trust had been broken to shards before. But in a few days, those shards would be ground into dust. And then what?