Peter unpacked the Vulture's backpack in front of her in the hearing room. There were gizmos in there that he was not even sure if they had a proper name.

"You've got a lot of cool toys."

"They're only toys in your hands," she returned, smiling politely.

"In my client's hands," Mozzie said beside her, "those are WMDs." Hardly surprising the kid's lawyer had signed up as her lawyer, too. But though Peter knew Mozzie was bright in many ways, he was also surprisingly stupid in either.

"For her legal counsel, you're not helping her case," Neal sighed from his corner of the room. No, pointing out that the 'toys' were weapons of mass destruction was not helping her at all.

"Strike that from the record," Mozzie said.

"So, why can't we find a photo of Brauer?" Peter wanted to know.

"He's off the grid," she said. "I've looked, too. I can't tell you what he looks like, but I can tell you what I know."

"As long as my client leaves uncharged and unmolested!"

"Don't touch the WMDs," Peter said when Mozzie's admiring hand hovered over one of the toys. He turned to the woman. "And I'm not calling you Vulture."

She shrugged.

"Sally."

"Short for 'Salieri'?" Mozzie asked.

Sally watched him for a moment.

"It is now."

"Sally," Peter said, focusing her attention. "You built the virus for Brauer?"

"I built it with Brauer," she said, straight to the point. "A few months ago, he reached out to me; wanted help scratching up a bug to infiltrate bank accounts."

"Then he cut you out of the robbery," the kid asked.

"There wasn't supposed to be a robbery."

"You put your hand in the cookie jar, but you didn't want a cookie?" Peter thought that unlikely.

"What do you see out that window?" Sally asked. Peter did not reply to that. "I see a thousand C.E.O.s collecting undisclosed bonuses even as they lay off half their workforce."

"You wanted to publicize their bank statements," Mozzie realized.

"Someone in this city has to expose corruption."

Peter kept himself from rolling his eyes.

"Doesn't sound that different from the ideology Brauer's espousing," Neal pointed out.

"His paper mask manifesto? It's a bastardization. All buzz, no bite. None of us in the movement were fooled."

"He didn't take a shot at you over your political differences." Mozzie once again spilled his thoughts without thinking.

"No. He probably thinks I'm the one spending his money."

Peter stared at Neal on the other side of the room.

"So, whoever spent the money almost got you shot?"

"Point of fact," Mozzie said. "I was against the plan from the incepti—" A look from the kid obviously shut him up.

"I apologize," Neal said to Sally, and then turned to Peter. "But the plan drew out Brauer. That should count as half a win."

Neal got Peter's stare and with every right. His plan almost got someone else killed. He looked at Sally.

"I apologize. But the plan drew out Brauer." He glanced at Peter. "That should count as half a win."

His handler smiled.

"I'm gonna get us the other half."

"How?"

"Mmm," Peter shook his head. "Not now. Sally, you're free to go, but do us the courtesy to stay in town?"

"Because I have to?"

"No, because I ask you to."

"No charges?" she asked.

"No charges."

"I told you the FBI would give you immunity." Mozzie grinned all over her face.

"No, this is not immunity," Peter corrected. "This is Sally cooperating to catch a bigger fish, with no obvious crime we can charge her for. That is how it works."

Sally rose and packed her things.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

When Sally and her lawyer had left, Neal wanted to know the plan. Peter just grinned.

"You want to let me face it when it's already in motion, right?" There were a few other reasons he could think of. "Thought the FBI was above revenge."

"They are. I'm not."

"Are you five or what?" Neal felt sulky all of a sudden.

"Go to your desk, Neal."

"Woof."

An hour later, he was called into Peter's office. His handler placed a photo on the desk.

"We leaked security photos from your shopping spree," he said. So that was what he had been doing for the past hour: finding photos of him as Duponte. Neal got the plan.

"Oh, that way, Brauer takes his next shot at me. Sounds fun."

"I love how we're always on the same page," Peter said with a grin. "Then we linked a series of remote purchases to a P.O. box and set up a delivery date."

"He assumes I'm picking up my order and shows up to take me out." It was a good plan. More than petty revenge.

"Then we take him out," Peter corrected. "And that's how the FBI does a sting."

"Mm. I'm impressed. But my way was more fun."

"This is what heaven feels like," Sara said, patting a fur. "The faux-fur industry's certainly come a long way."

Neal took a few chords at the guitar he had bought while he still had a chance.

"Is it just me, or does knowing this Les Paul cost eight hundred grand actually make it sound better?"

"We'll have to buy you a cheaper one when this is all over," she said.

"Once you go gold, you can't go back."

"Sure, but you have to. It is not in the budget once Brauer's plunder is back where it belongs."

He had always seen the treasure as a safety net. It's not something he actually needed. Now, when he had had a huge amount of money to spend…

"Unless we could find another way." He looked at her, knowing he wanted her with him on this.

"Meaning?"

"These past few days… They remind me of the Palazzo Sasso. They've been perfect."

His hand opened up a window on the laptop. It asked for a password.

"You're really hung up on that hotel."

"It wasn't just the hotel. It was a time in my life when I had everything I was looking for. Freedom... Excitement... Comfort... And the right people to share it with."

"You think this might be another one of those moments?"

He entered the password. Sara did not see, as she sat opposite, looking at the shiny, expensive guitar in his lap.

"What if I told you that we could keep living like this?"

She chuckled.

"What? Rich beyond measure, unaccountable to anyone or anything, not a care in the world?"

"Is that a yes?"

"No, it's a daydream." Sara was serious across the table.

"Well, maybe daydreams can come true," Neal tried. He did not want to let her go. He wanted her with him, wanted to share every aspect of his life with her.

"And that is why I like you. Because you dreamed all of this up. And it really has been a hell of a lot of fun."

"But?"

"But we didn't earn it, Neal. People like me don't get gold-plated guitars. Not legally." Neal listened to her and looked at the treasure on the screen. "Hey. I don't cross any line I can't come back from."

"And I'd never ask you to."

"Okay. Well, maybe this is our Palazzo Sasso, then. But I think you're forgetting a very important part of that story. The Palazzo Sasso didn't last."

Neither would his relationship with Sara. She would not follow him, and he would leave. And maybe it was all a dream and a vain hope of another life.

"You're right." He closed the lid to the laptop.