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"Any family in the area?" Peter asked Neal sitting beside him in the car."None to speak of," a tired Neal answered."Marital status?" he read from the questioner."Seriously?""You and Sara are getting along again. Maybe you eloped.""Vegas is a little outside my radius," Neal returned. "Do you have to fill that out right now?"Ah, Sara was a sensitive subject, Peter noted."Your commutation hearing is in a week. I put this off as long as I could. Would you say you have a girlfriend?""That's really on there?" Neal glanced at the form."Neal, the Board is deciding whether to release you from your anklet — from me — permanently." Peter did his best to hide how sad that made him feel. "They want to know who's in your life. Are they a good influence, or are they gonna steer you back to the dark side?""And you think Sara could be an angel on my shoulder?"Of course, she would, Peter though. A woman who not only made a good life for herself, she also helped the FBI chasing criminals."As opposed to that little devil you have on your shoulder now.""Mozzie's more of an imp than a devil," Neal smiled. "But I was released into your custody. Ultimately, what you say at the hearing will carry the most weight."Peter knew this. He knew about Mozzie. He knew Sara's dark sides, including her proneness to use the law for her own purposes. He was also aware of how much he would miss Neal. Though he was proud of the young man, Peter was quite certain that Neal would return to crime, one way or another.He got a most wanted break from the line of thought."Okay. Target approaching."Neal got the camera up and took photos."Gordon Taylor," he said as the car stopped and a man stepped out."He sure knows how to make friends," Peter noted as he was met by hotel staff."He's one of the most beloved cons in the world," Neal said."And no criminal record," Peter sighed. How was that even possible?"He's a pro," Neal said, as an answer to the unspoken question.Peter saw Gordon Taylor walk inside the hotel. His pet convict beside him was the most professional con man he ever met, and the most hard to catch. Should this Taylor be more professional than Neal?"Makes me wonder…" he started, "if that would be you —""If you hadn't caught me? I'd like to think so."Peter watched him smiling as he took the last photos. At least he was honest and admitted it in front of his handler. That had to count for something. But still… “Neal, the Board is deciding whether to release you from your anklet — from me — permanently,” his handler said, and Neal watched the street to hide his emotions. “They want to know who's in your life. Are they a good influence, or are they gonna steer you back to the dark side?”“And you think Sara could be an angel on my shoulder?” He had pulled her into plenty of illegal activities, and it had been easy to do so. She liked a good adventure, and sometimes he had asked himself if she had less impulse control than he.“As opposed to that little devil you have on your shoulder now,” Peter pointed out.“Mozzie's more of an imp than a devil.” And even though he was quite sure Moz committed crime on a daily basis he rarely pulled Neal into it. “But I was released into your custody,” Neal pointed out. “Ultimately, what you say at the hearing will carry the most weight.”He watched Peter. He did not envy his friend’s position. To have a convict as allay and friend and then have to decide if the same convict should remain a prisoner or not. Neal knew he would respect Peter’s decision no matter what. But he wished that he could prove himself to Peter. To tell him that all he wanted was to work for him, but as a free man, of his own free will.“Okay,” Peter said. “Target approaching.”Neal took photos of the car stopping outside the hotel.“Gordon Taylor,” he said when he saw the legend step out.“He sure knows how to make friends.” As most do, Neal thought. Just because he is a criminal does not make him unpleasant.“He's one of the most beloved cons in the world,” Neal pointed out. The man and the whole concept he stood for could not be more impressive. Peter showed the photos Neal had taken on the screen in the conference room.“If Gordon Taylor's in town, it means he's here to do a job,” he told the assembled team. “He's a key suspect in some of the biggest heists in the past decade.”He switched to some reference photos.“Wow. Antibes,” Jones noted. “That the location of his last job?”“No, that's his villa.” Peter sighed for himself. It was not one of those images that was good for morale.“They say you can hear his parties all the way across the Mediterranean,” Neal grinned.“That's not true,” Diana said.“Reminds me of college,” Jones smiled.“Regardless, Taylor is a contract thief,” Peter said to make them focus. “We need to find out who hired him and what they're planning to steal.”“How is it Taylor doesn't have a record?” Diana was upset.“Oh, he has a saying,” Neal said. “‘Nobody gets caught. Everybody gets paid.’ And so far, he's lived up to that.” Did not exactly answer the question, but Peter thought he could.“He also has a very loyal following, and it helps that the public loves him.”“Even his victims say nice things,” Neal confirmed.“Check this out.” Peter flipped the images on the screen showing a man in France with a car something landed on.“Oh, this was a heist he ran in Paris,” Neal explained. “He dove out of a second-story window onto this guy's Peugeot.”“Two weeks later,” Peter continued, “Taylor sends a check to the owner to cover the damages.”“Claimed he heard about the car on the news.”“Because he's popular, it's difficult to find witnesses willing to talk. He's careful, and he's smart. This isn't gonna be easy. We need to find out what he's hitting and when. He hires locally. Neal, talk to the street, figure out what kind of crew he's putting together. Diana, follow the money trail surrounding his trip. Jones, cover surveillance on the hotel. I want intel on everyone he meets.”“You got it.”People rose and left but Diana lingered.“Boss, you got a minute?”“Yeah.”They went into his office and she closed the door.“Can I speak freely?”“Of course.” He gestured for her to sit down and they both did.“Agent Kramer told me before he left that he doesn't think Neal deserves to have his sentence commuted.”“Kramer told you that?” Diana nodded. That was surprising.“He wanted to know what I planned to say when I testify at Neal's hearing.”Peter was baffled.“He didn't say anything to me,” he mumbled.“He knows you consider Neal a friend. Can I ask...”“What am I gonna say at the hearing? I haven't decided.”“Kramer's sending some of his people to pick up Neal's old prison letters,” Diana continued.“His letters to Kate? We always suspected they contained codes, but we could never crack them.”“Maybe he thinks he can.”Why would Kramer fight so hard to keep Neal on the FBI leach? He thought about what Diana had said about feeling threatened by the man.“Give Kramer what he wants,” he said. He could not figure out one reason why they should refuse. Kramer did his job. She rose but lingered.“If he asks me to go behind your back?”Peter was taken aback, again.“I can't imagine he would.”“If he does?”“If he does, do it. But I want you to tell me about it.”“I may be jeopardizing a wonderful career opportunity back in D.C,” she said.“I thought Christie hated D.C.”“She does,” she grinned. “And I work for you.”
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"'Without leaps of imagination, you lose the excitement of possibility.'"Neal glanced at Mozzie. His friend was excited as a child at Christmas."Are you quoting Gloria Steinem?" he asked as they walked down the sidewalk."She's not just for feminists. She has unlocked what's missing in our lives. We need jobs.""If she only knew who she inspired," Neal smiled."Oh, she does," Mozzie assured him. "But not any job. A good job. A big job.""Well, I have to be careful about taking those kind of jobs at the moment, okay?""Look, I know this is risky with your big hearing coming up, but this is too good to pass up." Mozzie stopped. "You are looking at the first man hired to be part of Gordon Taylor's next score."Neal felt a chill down his spine."No, no, no, Moz! The FBI is after Taylor. Peter and I are chasing down his crew.""Me! You're looking for me. I'm his crew!""Pull out," Neal insisted. "You're gonna get caught.""Taylor never gets caught, and everybody gets paid!""Have you already said yes?""Yeah, of course I did. No one says no to Taylor. And…" Mozzie grinned, "he asked me about you to be his possible point man."Gorden Taylor wanted him? Thee Gordon Taylor?"He asked about me?""Point. Man."Neal could be nothing but flattered and proud. And Mozzie was right, no-one said no to Taylor."All right, there's a way we can still do this," Neal said, "but you're gonna have to work with us.""'Us'? You mean the Suits?""Yeah.""Unh-unh!" Mozzie shook his head."You're already in. Taylor's going down one way or another.""Yeah, I don't want to be the one to bring him down." They continued their walk."Look, if we do this right, no more anklet, no more prison. I'll be free, Moz."Mozzie stopped again."Look, Neal, I… I want to help you. R-really, I do, but not in this way. Come on. The guy's a legend."Neal understood, and Mozzie had never asked for a connection with the FBI. Neal had more or less forced it upon his friend. But he had to find a way to use this opportunity."All right, how about this? You keep your integrity intact. You said Taylor was asking about me, so set up the meeting. Then you've done your part.""If he takes you on, I will not wear a wire, I will not testify, and I will not lie to Taylor.""You won't have to," Neal assured him. "It'll be like we're really doing the job.""Yeah, without the fun," Moz muttered."Or the threat of prison.""Like I said." Yeah, part of the challenge was not to get caught; that was true."This case takes us home, Moz." If he could prove he could be undercover with the legend and still get him caught, he would prove a lot to the FBI and the board."Home," Mozzie repeated and smiled. "That's an apropos analogy, considering the target.""Why? What's the target?" Moz whistled and pointed across the street. Neal stared and the building. "Taylor's gonna hit Yankee Stadium?""It's a good job."Neal was amazed and a bit disappointed. What did they have to steal? Peter found it rather amazing that Neal went out to listen to rumors and as instructed only to come back the next morning knowing more than any of the other agents. What bothered him was Neal’s expressed admiration for Taylor. He would hate to have Neal behind bars, especially now when he could be free. Still, he wanted to show that he trusted Neal, and not make the same mistake as when the art blew up.They had booked an appointment at the Yankee Stadium and was walking there.“Got to hand it to you,” Peter said. “Took you all of 24 hours to find out Taylor's target.”“Well, not only that, but as an added bonus, I've figured out a way to work Mozzie into his crew.”Peter glanced at Neal. He had not said anything about it this morning.“Really?” A thought crossed his mind. “Are you in his crew?”“Not yet. But I'm thinking that's the way to go on this one. Me and Moz on the inside.”Peter did not like that idea at all. Neal, yes, but with his odd friend, no. Unfortunately Peter felt he had little of a choice this time.“Any idea what Taylor's going after in there?”“Nope.”Peter felt discomfort when Neal and Moz were at the same place.“I don't know what you're planning,” Peter said, watching Neal, “but you are one week away from freedom, and you are really playing with fire here.”“You're welcome,” Neal answered with a glare and crossed the street.“Mm-hmm,” Peter agreed and followed him. “Let's go to the ballpark.”“You're in a good mood,” Neal noted. Peter grinned even more. He was at one of the places in the world he loved and respected the most.“My dad took me to a day game when I was 8. Decided then and there I wanted to play for the Yankees.”“Yeah, you and every other 8-year-old at the game,” his young pet convict said.“Yeah,” Peter agreed. But not all of those 8-year-old did something with that dream. “I did end up getting pretty good.”“Oh, I'm sure you did. I imagine a shelf somewhere loaded with little-league trophies.”Neal would never understand what the sport meant to him, but that was okay. They walked out and watched the arena from one of the audience’s entrances.“Wow,” Peter said. “Yankee Stadium.” Just he and Neal and a wide green empty lawn.“New house that Ruth built.”“New cathedral of baseball,” Peter said.“The new Bronx Zoo.” Less respectful, Peter thought.A man approached them from inside. They shook hands.“You must be Geoffrey, head of security. Special Agent Peter Burke.”“Neal Caffrey.” They shook hands.“Well, thanks for the heads up,” Geoffrey said. “Looked over the file you sent. He's never used a weapon or a threat of violence?”“No, but we can't relax. We know Taylor intends to strike somewhere in the stadium.”“We're trying to identify the likely times and targets,” Neal said.“Well, the vaults below are secure, but we handle millions in cash from concessions every game.”“You should vary the pick-up and drop-off times,” his pet convict said at once. Peter could not help thinking that he said that to impress or assure his handler.“And of course, the public has easy access to the museum,” the head of security continued.The museum… Long ago, it had stirred up sad memories, but that was many years ago.“I think we should see that for ourselves,” he said. He could sense Neal’s eyes on him.“All right.”The man turned and walked inside.“This is awesome,” he mumbled to Neal.“Okay…”Well, kid, you can have your art. What you’re about to see are things I would find worthy of stealing, Peter thought for himself, as he found it unsuitable to say aloud.
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"You know, we can't even place a value on most of these pieces of history," the head of security said as they walked into the small museum. "They're each one-of-a-kind."Neal had no feeling for what he saw. It was sweaters, bats and balls, trophies, newspapers. Like a boy's room but in an adult version. He remembered Mozzie once told him he found a Star Trek lunchbox for 600 dollars."Is all your memorabilia in this room?" he asked, looking around."Well, most of it's concentrated in here, but we also have championship trophies and retired jerseys throughout the building.""Got to be millions of square feet to cover," Peter sighed behind him."We should get blueprints," Neal said, only to realize that Peter had lingered at a showcase. "Hey. Slugger.""Right." Peter seemed to remember why he was there. "Uh, could we trouble you for building plans and a chart of the display cases and security cameras?""Sure. Why don't you wait here while I pull it all together?" Geoffrey said. "I, uh… get the feeling you'd like to look around a little more." A man sent a proud smile to Peter."Thanks, Geoffrey.""Sure."The man left, and Peter looked like a child on Christmas morning. To Neil's vast surprise, his handler looked at him as if asking for permission."Go ahead," Neal mumbled, embarrassed.Peter moved with awe."Being here… all this... reminds me of watching games with my dad.""Your dad take you to a lot of games?""No… Mostly we'd watch them on TV. He'd run an extension cord out to the porch, put on our Yankee caps, crack open a beer…""Way to go, dad.""Well, root beer for me. During commercials, we'd throw the ball around."Neal listened, watching a wall with signed baseballs. He did not want to look directly at Peter. He knew his friend would see things in his face he would prefer to keep hidden."Sounds like something to go home for," he said, glad Peter had such happy memories."It is. And when I go back, we still do it. Except now I drink real beer." Peter had spotted something. "Oh, man… What I'd pay to have that bat in my collection."Neal watched a worn bat in a glass case."I bet it's a lot of money for that piece of wood.""'Piece of wood?'" the agent repeated."Yeah. I mean, take away the fact that DiMaggio swung it, it's just a bat.""But some guy named Pollock can splatter paint on a canvas, and you think it's worth millions of dollars?""'Splatter paint on a canvas'?" Neal repeated. "You stand in front of one of Pollock's works, the chaos fades away, and you see the discipline, the balance of restraint and abandon.""Like when DiMaggio stepped up to the plate."No, that was not the same."Great art has a broader meaning," Neal explained. "It captures a time, a place, an emotion.""This bat was used to set the all-time hit-streak record the same year Hirohito bombed Pearl Harbor. For four… five at-bats a day, Joltin' Joe let Americans forget that we were going to war."Neal would probably never learn to love sport, but he came a lot closer to understand, and respect, other's passion for it."A time, a place, an emotion," he mumbled."This bat, those balls, these pennants got this country through some tough times. They still do. Gives us something to root for. And if you work hard, swing for the fences... ah… anything's possible.He looked at Peter with new eyes. The man displayed the same passion for baseball that Neal himself felt for art."That's how you feel about baseball?""That's how a lot of people feel about baseball." Peter walked into the conference room where his crew worked.“Yankees security is sending over more surveillance footage,” he said.“Great,” Diana confirmed. “Where's Caffrey?”“Prepping for his audition for Taylor's crew.”“A bit like putting a drink in the hands of an alcoholic,” Jones said.“Reformed alcoholic, I know,” Peter sighed. “And it's more like a bottle. But putting Caffrey side by side with someone like Taylor is the best way to nail him. Here's some surveillance from the hotel,” he continued, putting some images on the screen.At once, the crew around the table made it clear that they recognized Mozzie.“Yes, I know. It's Mozzie. He's Neal's in.”“How convenient.” Diana had a clear edge to her voice.“As long as he stays on our side, we don't ask questions. We've granted Mozzie immunity.”“To preserve his street cred, you want us to arrest him if we catch him?” Jones asked.“And make it look real,” Peter confirmed.“Oh, I will,” Diana said.“Same for Caffrey,” he continued. “Taylor knows a lot about Neal, but our backstop has held up.”“That he was released two years ago but remains a person of interest in a number of elegant high-profile crimes,” Jones said.“Any other questions?” Peter looked around the table. “Good. Let's make the Yankees proud.”