"Neal, we need your expertise," Peter said. Neal knew very well that this was more than a casual question coming. He sat in one of the interview rooms with cameras and audio recordings, with Peter on the other side of the table and Kramer hovering. It did not take much to realize this setting was Kramer's doing.

Neal leaned forward, getting closer to the microphone.

"That's what I'm here for."

"Great. Let's say that you're in possession of a masterpiece that disappeared seventy years ago." Peter's tone of voice made a chill along Neal's spine. He now knew for sure that he was a suspect.

"Like a Degas?" he asked.

"Exactly."

"You can imagine that, right, Neal?" Kramer asked as he passed behind Neal's back.

"Enjoying the fantasy as we speak, sir."

"Too bad it can't last," Peter said.

"Why not?"

"Because the painting's hot. You have to get rid of it."

"Or the feds will take me down?"

"Exactly." Peter's eyes were like stone. This was not a man preparing to bring a friend to prison. This was a man who fought to keep the friendship away. He glanced at Kramer. This man complicated things on more than one level.

Then his cell phone buzzed. He took it out and glanced at the display. It said "Meeting Rusty in 30".

"You need to take that?" Peter asked.

"Nope." He deleted the message. "So I've got a hot Degas I need to move before you take me down."

"Question is, how do you fence it?" Kramer asked.

"I don't," Neal answered. "I'd have someone fence it for me."

"Why go through a middleman?" Peter asked.

"A Degas appearing after all this time is going to be greeted with a healthy amount of skepticism," Neal explained.

"People will assume it's a forgery," Kramer mumbled.

"Yeah, they usually are," Neal agreed. "So I'd need someone with an impeccable reputation to make the sale. You want me to ask around?"

"Actually, Kramer's team already has two suspects in mind."

"Thorough." And proof that they no longer trusted him. But if they thought he had the Degas, why would they?

"This is Gus Leland." Kramer placed a file before him. "Deals exclusively in French impressionists, recently returned to New York."

"I know Gus. He always has quality work. He definitely fits the bill."

"Second guy is known as Rusty." A new file was placed before him. "Renowned for an impeccable eye at spotting forgeries."

"Yeah," Neal agreed. "He's suspected of brokering the black-market sale of Matisse's 'La pastorale' last year."

"Yeah," Peter said. "And it's also rumored he recently sold a high-priority painting here."

"Tell me, Neal," Kramer said, towering on the other side of the table by Peter's side. "When you fence your Degas, who are you gonna use?"

Neal felt a slight panic. He wouldn't have used any of them. But that would look like a diversion.

"Rusty's got the local contacts," he said. He glanced at Kramer, who looked like he was about to spring a trap. Neal looked Peter square in the eye. "I'd go with Rusty."

Peter stared back at him without blinking.

"Then that's who we'll go after."

"Okay. My team has Gus," Kramer said in a cheery tone. "Good luck, gentlemen." Neal watched him leave. He hoped this would defrost Peter a bit.

"All right, I'll call Mozzie," he said, going for his phone. "He keeps tabs on Gotham's black-market elite."

"No need," Peter said. "We've had eyes on Rusty for twenty-four hours. We know exactly where he is. Let's go."

Peter stood with Neal in the elevator going down. Kramer had had a point that he should treat the kid as a suspect. But there had been numerous times during the past years that he had thought he would have to cuff his pet convict and friend and bring him back to prison. It had hurt, but he would have done it and survived the process.

"Let's walk," he said when they left the building and reached the car on the sidewalk.

"Don't we need a car to pick up Rusty?"

"I got a few in place." He glanced at the phone in Neal's hand. "Need to reach out and touch someone?"

"I find it a handy tool to keep abreast in this fast-paced world."

"No one ever talks anymore. Put that away. Let's talk."

"Okay." The kid did as he said, and as they started walking, Neal used the encouragement to talk. "Tell me why Kramer's really here."

"He's a friend, and he's a mentor." Which was only half of the real answer, but it was the truth.

"He's a watchdog."

A short and snappy comment. Peter got a feeling the kid didn't like Kramer much.

"Is that what you think a mentor is?"

"Let's see… as depicted in Homer's 'Odyssey,' mentor was half-man-half-God."

How could a man who knew and remembered everything he read, it seemed, go for a path of crime, Peter asked himself. Why was the need for a challenge so great?

"He represented the union of path and goal, if I recall," Peter said, knowing his footing was not as sure as his pet convict's. "Wisdom personified."

"That's one interpretation. Mentor also guided Odysseus' son during the Trojan war. You planning to go to war, Peter?"

"Oh, not yet. But if I have to, Kramer's got my back."

"Must be nice having someone who believes in you."

"I never gave him a reason not to."

Neal's greatest worry was that Moz would be meeting with Rusty as they approached the park. Even if they did not have any reason to arrest him, it would not look good to have the other prime suspect talking to the fence.

"Rusty!" Peter yelled and went for his badge. The big burly man got fire under his shoes and set off. "Stay where you are! Rusty!" Neal saw no trace of Mozzie. "Diana, tell backup to come around to Bryant Park."

"All right, I'll take left, you take right?" Neal asked and got a glare from his handler. There was no time for this, Neal gestured towards the fleeing Rusty. "Peter?"

"Go."

The second he got out of Peter's sight, he texted Mozzie 'Where are you?'

He got back a 'Behind you' a second later. He stopped and turned, and Mozzie stepped out from behind a tree. That man had truly the ability to be invisible, even in a red-striped shirt.

"Why'd you bring the suit?"

"Look, the FBI has been monitoring Rusty. Peter didn't give me a chance to warn you. Did you get the info?"

"Rusty didn't tell me anything. He is discretion personified, even with that red hair of his. On the upside, I'm assuming he won't tell the FBI, either."

"All right, good. I'll head him off."

"What? No! Let him go!"

"Peter is going for me, Moz. If I help him catch Rusty, maybe he'll ease up on his leash. Now get out of here before he sees you."

"Hold on," he said again, bringing a cloth up from his pocket. "Rusty's phone." He swept the surface again with the cloth. "I deleted any references to us."

Neal grabbed it.

"Perfect. Thank you, Moz."

Peter ran through the park and understood that he would not likely catch up with Rusty.

"Diana, where are my guys?" he gasped over the radio.

Rusty saw policemen at the gate he was aiming for and turned for another, unguarded. Then a man stepped out: Neal.

"This exit's closed."

Peter chuckled and caught up with them.

"Rusty. We need to talk about a man and a Degas."

"Got to love good old-fashioned teamwork," the kid said. Peter smiled at him. Yeah, this was what he enjoyed. And Neal seemed to enjoy it, too. But the kid always tried to keep one foot on each side of the law, and that was not how it worked.

"He screamed for his lawyer the second I put cuffs on him." Peter told Kramer when the commotion had settled, and Rusty was led off to a car.

"He knows talking will kill his reputation. We need leverage."

"You have it," the kid said, joining them. "Found Rusty's phone. He must have tossed it." He gave it to Peter. "His recent call list should help us figure out where he got the Degas."

Peter stared at the phone and at Neal. There was not a chance that the kid and Rusty had been so close that Neal could have stolen his phone. And if there was anything on it that would lead to him or his funny friend, he would never handed it over.

"We'll get this to E.R.T," Peter said. "Meet you back at the office. We'll go over details."

"Sounds good." Neal walked away with a smile.

"Your boy is very helpful for our lead suspect," Kramer said. Peter knew his mentor well enough to know that Kramer was doubting that Neal had done it.

"So it seems." He hoped he had seen the honest Neal. But that was one of the kid's many talents: the times you know for sure were rare. And Peter knew he liked Neal just the way he was.