Hughes came up to Peter, hands deep in the pockets of his coat, and that almost invisible smile that you had to know about to see.
"Guess what we found on the spot where we were told you harassed one of Sara Ellis's clients."
"Larsen?"
"With latex fingerprints on his fingers, as by chance."
"Mine?"
"Too early to tell, but your friend His Royal Highness Prince Bilal says that Larsen put them on to frame you."
Peter smiled at this. He was confident he would get his badge back after this. Hughes' smile was gone though.
"I know why you did it, Peter. And you're one of my best agents."
"But?"
"I think you know what the 'but' is, Peter. And don't tell me it doesn't matter because it was all legal."
"I was framed," Peter said, feeling like a schoolboy. Hughes nodded.
"Just don't make a habit of doing it Caffrey's way."
Peter nodded in agreement and Hughes left. The crate was transported out from the building by FBI agents. Sara Ellis joined him.
"Hi, nice riding back there, cowboy."
"Thank you, ma'am," Peter replied lifting an imaginary hat.
"Yes, sir. Any idea why Larssen was so intent on shipping Nazi dinnerware?"
"Not really. No. Larssen's not talking, but it's clearly important to whoever he's working for."
"Where was it going?"
"Argentina. Which isn't exactly in the FBI's jurisdiction." The story would probably become an unsolved mystery and Peter haded those.
"It's in mine," Sara said beside him. He blinked and gazed at her. "Sterling Bosch has a few clients in South America, and I have vacation days coming up."
"Are you offering to go to Argentina?" His mind raced. He was thinking about what Hughes had told him. And about Mozzie almost getting killed. "Could be dangerous."
"Could be fun," she grinned. "Tell Junior I'll send him a postcard."
"'Junior'?"
She was already gone. She probably meant Neal, but... what was going on between those two?
Neal felt as proud as he would have been if it was his big brother coming on horseback with the villain in cuffs.
"You got him," Diana laughed beside him.
"Nice riding, Butch," Neal said.
"Thanks, Sundance."
Peter returned the horse to its owner. Neal saw Peter opening and closing his hand. So it had been an old-fashioned fistfight.
"Larssen's got a hard face."
"Oh, it felt good, though, didn't it?" Diana said with a vicious grin.
"Hell, yes, it did."
Neal knew it was hopeless but it was now or never.
"Before you get your badge back, there is a seven-man con that I have been meaning to—"
"No," his handler said at once, raising his hand stopping all further explanation. "The Burke Seven is hereby disbanded."
Of course, he would say that, but now Peter had had a taste of things that made life fun and not just bearable.
"We made a good team," he said to his friend and senior agent. The man just sighed. "Oh, come on. Admit it, you enjoyed yourself."
Peter chuckled.
"A good con man never admits to anything. You taught me that."
Peter and Diana left and Neal pulled out his phone.
"I'm gonna call Moz, give him the good news," he told them. His friend took the call on the first ring. "Hey, Moz, we got Larssen."
"Excellent! I will see your accomplishment and raise you one. I built our equation."
"And?"
"You need to come see this."
Neal liked the tone in Mozzie's voice. It said he was on to something.
"I'll come as soon as I can."
He glanced around and saw Peter talking to Hughes. Not a good time to interfere. It was nothing more for him to do around here though, so from that point of view, it was no big deal if he left. He texted Peter: 'Going home. Mozzie found something.'
He hurried home.
"Hey," he greeted Mozzie who sat in a wheelchair in Neal's apartment. "So, what'd you want to show me?"
"Ta-da!"
He pulled the cover off a tray, revealing a pattern made by plastic bendy straws. Probably the ones Elizabeth brought him.
"This is what the music box encoded. Now, I know bendy straws aren't the most elegant medium, but they make the point. It's a fractal design." Neal knew it was a fractal alright. He could not believe what he saw, even less than his past would return to him. Not now, not this way. "Fractals are used in, like, everything from predicting natural disasters to metallurgy. There's one in your cellphone."
"Moz, I've seen something like this before. I know who's behind everything."
"Who?" Mozzie wanted to know.
"We both know who he is, Moz. He's the man who made me who I am today."
His friend let this news sink in.
"I thought he didn't know about me. And yet he tried to have me killed."
Peter sat by his desk and stroke its surface. He was back. Back where he belonged. He had won. El had said over the phone that she would make a special dinner when he got home. He had been so close to losing a great part of what he cared for in life. He only cared more for El.
He rose and looked out of the window of his office. The view he had watched so many times, working to solve cases.
Someone knocked on the open door. He turned and met Diana's smile.
"We got you a welcome-back gift," she said pulling her hand from behind her back. "A new mug."
He accepted the FBI mug wrapped with strings and a big rosette at the top.
"Look at that," Peter grinned, moved. "Oh, that's good. Almost as good as what Hughes got me." He pattered the badge on his belt.
"It's great to have you back, boss."
Peter saw Jones coming with Larsen and Diana turned to watch too. Time to go to work. He put the mug down on his desk.
He walked to the interview rooms. Jones was waiting with Larsen in one of them. Diana took place behind the one-way mirror.
Peter sat down opposite Larsen who sat with his cuffed hands on the table, appearing relaxed.
"Dejavu. Only this time, it doesn't end with you walking out a free man."
"What's your offer?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm the bullet, remember? You want the man pulling the trigger." Larsen even made a big confident grin. Peter bet he had used that opportunity more than once, getting away with murder at a low cost for himself. Well, then he would have to adapt fast.
He leaned forward.
"Offer's expired." Larsen blinked, taken aback. "The only deal I'll make is to protect you from him." It was gambling with high stakes, but if Peter was wrong the man behind it was not as dangerous as he thought and then he would rest easier anyway.
Larsen did not cooperate.
Peter rose.
"Get him out," he told Jones.
"His name is Vincent Adler."
Peter stopped by the door and turned. The man he was looking for was just as dangerous as he had feared. Larsen had just told them a name with the only hope to stay safe as part of the deal.