It was too early for Torrio and Neal doubted Mozzie would be inclined to make an appearance (actually, he doubted Mozzie was still in the state), so he didn't bother to rise from the couch as the footsteps came up the stairs.

"Come in," he called when they reached the top landing.

Peter pushed open the door and looked with bright-eyed fascination around the room. "So this is where the magic happens, huh?"

Neal watched bemusedly as Peter - out of his suit and wearing just a sweatshirt and jeans - poked enthusiastically through the inks and plates on the workbench. "You're not going to find anything else incriminating there," he felt moved to point out.

Peter nodded distractedly. "Sure, I know. Hey," he held up an ink mixer and grinned. "Old school, I like it. Where are the bonds?"

Still not quite sure what to do with that much enthusiasm, Neal just nodded to the floor safe.

Peter's smiled widened. "Can I see them?"

Neal hesitated. "That depends. Can I be any more arrested?"

Peter shook his head. "You're about as arrested as you can get," he said surprisingly reassuringly.

Which, Neal felt, really just wasn't right, given the circumstances. He crossed the floor, knelt by the safe and spun the combination. "So what's the plan?"

"Jones is outside with the local LEOs. They'll wait until Torrio takes possession of the bonds and then come in. We just have to get to Kate and then keep our heads down.

"For the purposes of this sting, I'm your partner and we managed to send the Feds running in another direction. Chasing Russians or something."

Neal ignored that and handed up a couple of sheets; Peter took them as carefully as he would a piece of art. He turned back to the bench and found a loupe, almost picked it up and then hesitated. "May I?"

Now completely perplexed, Neal nodded his consent. "Knock yourself out."

Peter studied the bonds closely through the magnifier and then whistled softly through his teeth. "Nice. Very, very nice." He looked up and Neal would have sworn he was sincere. "How did you get around the color shifts?"

It turned out that the prospect of a potentially homicidal mob boss was actually less unnerving than Peter Burke showing an interest. "I'd tell you," Neal said finally, "but they'd throw me out of the Counterfeiter's Union. And they have a dinner and dance, so …"

"Sure, right." Peter shook his head as he examined the minutiae of the forgery. "McManus would never have been able to pull this off, what was he thinking?"

Neal shrugged; damned if he knew. "The money was good."

"Yeah, but you don't do it for the money. Especially not when it's the mob. He was Kate's friend, right?" Peter asked, not quite casually. "First, I mean."

Neal narrowed his eyes. "What are you trying to say?

Peter met his eyes impassively for a few seconds and then put the bonds back in the box. "Really nice work."

Neal turned and walked stiffly back to the window, ending the conversation. There were no cops in evidence on the street now, but then Peter wasn't trying to make a point anymore. Not that point, anyway.

A midnight blue BMW made its way slowly up the street and pulled up outside the warehouse. Two men with bad suits and worse haircuts got out of the car; they looked slowly around with their hands hovering over suspicious bulges in their jackets.

When they were satisfied, another, older man got out – this one impeccably dressed in dark gray Brioni, with a Rolex on his wrist and, Neal suspected, Berluti loafers to finish. He couldn't quite help but appreciate a man who would wear thousands of dollars to a hit.

Torrio – it had to be Torrio - held his hand inside the car and helped the last passenger out.

She looked around her with a pensive expression and then up at the window. Neal almost thought he caught her eye.

He stepped back and turned around. "They're here."

-o-

While Neal played nice with Torrio, Peter watched Kate. Nothing in her expression had betrayed that she recognised him and, once Neal had made the fake introductions, she'd played along as smoothly as Peter had ever seen.

Either the possibility she was about to be arrested was the lesser of two evils when compared to the wrath of Torrio, or she thought she had a way out. He was kind of inclined to think it was the latter.

He edged closer to her while Torrio was running a layman's eye over the bonds and muttered, "Hello, Kate."

"Agent Burke." Her reply was so low, he barely heard it; he didn't see her lips move at all. He wondered if she practiced that.

"At least one of you can get it right. So who's idea was this, anyway?"

"Neal's," she said, knocking 'honest' right out of the park.

"Yeah," he nodded, disappointed but not surprised. "That's what he said."

She looked up at him and then began to move; carefully she edged around until she was just in the peripheral vision of the man who was meant to be watching her, but well within reach of the various instruments on the table.

Peter saw her hand creep cautiously out and pick up a shard of metal, but he doubted anyone else did.

In his ear the bug crackled, before him Torrio straightened suddenly. "Your work is exquisite, and more than worth the price. I understand you have also done other … pieces."

Neal murmured something self-deprecating and Peter suspected it was less to do with humility – which was one of the few things Neal Caffrey had never, ever been accused of – and more to do with a deep and abiding desire not to incriminate himself further while the FBI were listening in. It would have been funnier if there weren't so many guns waiting to go off.

Torrio gestured and the second man picked the box of bonds up, over packed muscles good for something. Peter hoped - even in the face of experience - that would be it. That Torrio would go downstairs and be taken down without incident.

As if he'd read Peter's mind, Neal met his eyes and shook his head very slightly. It was never easy. Peter took his cue to move closer to the goon with the box.

"Well," Torrio began, "as much as it pains me, we do have one final transaction to complete."

The man next to Kate started to reach inside his jacket and then fell back with a yell as she struck out at his face with the stolen shard of jagged metal. He swung out blindly and she reeled backwards; Neal yelled her name.

Peter kicked out at the man with the box, who couldn't seem to decide between holding the bonds or holding his gun, and that really wasn't going to work out well for him. Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Neal swing something at Torrio and then the world was narrow and busy for the thirty seconds it took Jones and his team to respond.

When it was over the room was clear, everyone was in cuffs, Kate was sobbing hysterically and Caffrey was gone.