Peter and Neal walked inside the Drakemore Hotel that the truck was parked outside. Peter flashed his badge in the reception and asked to speak to the head of security. Less than five minutes later a man hurried up to them.

"Sean Loomis, head of security," he shook their hands. "How can I help the FBI?"

"Do you recognize him?" Peter asked, holding Ben's photo.

"Yeah. He's one of the painters working on our remodeling."

"Is anyone from the phone company here right now?" Neal asked.

"Yeah. But my assistant already spoke to them. Their credentials check out."

"Pick up your phone." Loomis frowned but did as Peter asked. Stunned he tried it once more.

"Line's dead."

"Jones," he said over the radio, "bring the team to the Drakemore Hotel. The robbery is taking place here." He turned to Loomis again. "Where are those repairmen?"

"The junction room."

"What else is back there?" Neal asked.

"The house safe." The man had already turned and hurried away. Peter and Neal joined him.

"How much is in it?" Neal wanted to know but got no reply.

"How much?" Peter pressed him.

"Seven and a half million. There's a gem convention in town. A lot of our guests wanted us to keep their cash in our strong room. Our safe is impregnable."

Then why in such hurry, Peter wondered.

They left the main lobby and passed a ripped off panel where cables hung out.

"You sure about that?" his pet convict said. Then there was a bang further down the corridor. Peter pulled his gun and with Loomis's directions flung the right door open.

The room was empty and there was a hole in the wall.

"Oh, I guess they couldn't crack the safe," Neal said.

"So they took the whole damn thing," Peter huffed and glanced through the hole. "What is on the other side?"

"I'll take you there," Loomis said and they ran out. There was a door right by. Peter told Loomis to wait and he and Neal run down the corridor and down the stairs.

There they saw two men with nylon stockings over their heads hurrying with a cart on their way out.

"FBI! Stop!"

While the first took the safe out, the second turned and fired his automatic. Peter was glad for his reflexes and got him and Neal out of the way.

"We're outgunned," Peter concluded.

"Yeah, I think so."

It was quiet and Peter glanced round the corner. It was empty. He ran down to the door and rushed out. There he saw the two men get into a green van and take off.

"You guys okay?" Jones asked, running up to them.

"Yeah. Except my neighbor just took off with seven and a half million dollars."


Neal kept quiet as they returned to the office. Peter was not in the mood for talking or analyzing yet. When they stepped out of the elevator, Jones met them.

"Peter, we found the van abandoned a half mile away," he reported. "No sign of Ben, Connor, or the money."

"These guys know what they're doing," Neal told them. "They had this planned to a 't.' Ben got a job as a painter to case the place. They had a drop car lined up. They even did a dry run on the same alarm system the hotel has."

"What, you gonna start a fan club?" Jones asked.

"No, I'm just saying they didn't leave anything to chance."

"Right," Peter sighed, "and they're already long gone."

"I don't think so," Neal said, and they stopped. "Ben bought a house.

He's putting down roots."

"They're not going anywhere," Peter realized.

"No. He's gonna be smart about it," Neal said. "He's not gonna start driving a Bugatti. He's gonna pay his mortgage..."

"Sit on his cash, put up ugly curtains, play his music too loud, and borrow my tools. To hell with that."

Neal loved how the two of them were in so much sync about things so many times.

"Well, if we're right, we can still catch him."


"Hey, hon," El answered the phone at the first ring.

"El, Ben and his partner robbed the Drakemore Hotel."

"They did? I knew it. Did you catch them?"

"Not yet. We need to find them with the cash." He walked into his office.

"Well, what if you don't?"

"We think they may be sitting on the money."

"Wait, so they could still live down the street?"

"Don't worry. Not gonna happen." Peter unfolded a map while he was talking. "I have squad cars en route, but I need you to keep an eye on the house."

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." He hung up. He looked at the map and wondered if he missed something.

"Hey," Neal said coming into the room.

"Hey."

"Roadblocks and BOLOs?"

"When in doubt, stick to the tried and true."

"Fair enough. We got an exact dollar amount from the hotel."

"Good. We find the same amount in Ben or Connor's possession, should be enough to put them away." His desk phone rang. "Could you get the speakerphone?"

"Yep." Neal walked over and pressed the button. "Peter Burke's office."

"Oh, hey, Neal."

Peter turned from the map.

"El, any movement on the house?"

"Uh, yes, definitely."

"All right, we're on our way. Just stay back and be careful."

There was a second of silence.

"Uh, it's a little late for that."

"We tailed Rebecca," Moz's voice broke in.

"Moz?" Neal asked, puzzled.

"Elizabeth is like a terrifying amalgamation of Danica Patrick and 'The Man from U.N.C.L.E," the man he had asked to keep an eye on his wife returned.

"You were supposed to just keep watch," Peter said, fighting to stay calm.

"But you said, 'Be safe,'" El returned. "And the only way I'm gonna feel safe is when Ben and Rebecca are behind bars."

"Does Rebecca know you're following her?" Neal asked.

"No, no, no. I had a secure distance, and I had a buffer car."

"I taught you those maneuvers to skirt a tail, not become one," Peter hissed.

"Isn't it the same principle?"

"El, these guys unloaded on us with automatic weapons!" Peter was very sure he said this clearly. "They are not messing around. Where are you now?"

"The Stardust Revue."

"Oh, damn it, El. That's where Ben's partner, Connor Bailey, works."

"Rebecca's heading inside right now," Mozzie said, "with three empty duffel bags."

"They're gonna divvy up the take," Neal said, quietly. "After that, it's gone."

Even if the couple sat tight on the money, Peter would never get a warrant, and they would be too clever where to hide it.

"Then we got to hurry," Peter mumbled. "El, get out of there now, please. We are on our way."

He ran to the elevator, taking Jones with him. The elevators were not meant for hasty departures though.

"How long does it takes to count that amount of money?" he asked Neal.

"With bill counters, like ten, fifteen minutes."

"We are on the other side of town," Peter muttered through his teeth.

"Peter, we'll not make it in time."

"We have to." The elevator finally arrived.

"Peter, maybe Moz could stall—"

"No! No. I'm not sending civilians in to a situation with automatic weapons willing to use them!"

"Okay," Neal nodded.

"Don't you dare to do anything to get him inside of that place!"

"I won't," Neal assured him. "He'll probably do the worst imitation of an FBI agent as we speak just because you told them to leave."

Peter sighed. Part of him hoped that Neal was right. That man had Neal's rabbit of landing on all fours no matter what strange situation he got himself into.