A/N: I got the idea for this story a few weeks ago. Wrote pretty much the whole thing in my head in the space of about two or three hours, and now I'm finally typing it up. Here's hoping it turns out as well as it did in my head. This takes place sometime during or after season four, and I'm basing that on the assumption that at some point in the fourth season, things will be returned to normal. The first chapter's not that long, because the beginning was the only part I had trouble coming up with. The rest will hopefully be more detailed.

"Morning, Peter." Neal strolled into the conference room and flashed his customary smile at his partner.

"Neal." Peter acknowledged his CI without looking up from the file in his hand.

"Is that our latest case?" Neal laid aside his hat, ready to get down to business, and peered over Peter's shoulder at the file.

"Yep, and this is an interesting one." Peter flipped over a few pages to the suspect profile.

"Who's that guy?" Neal asked, pointing to the photo.

"Goes by the name of Mark Lettle." Peter said. "We're pretty sure that's an alias. He came onto our radar a few weeks ago. He's a suspect in a number of heists, kidnappings, and armed robberies, but we've haven't had enough evidence to bring him in. But word on the street is—" Peter met his consultant's eyes. "—he's lookin' for a forger."

"And that's where I come in." Neal said.

"That's where you come in." Peter confirmed. "You—or rather, Nick Halden—will meet with him this afternoon to discuss the job."

Neal grinned. "Sounds like fun."

"You guys get all that?" Neal entered the van that afternoon. The hated surveillance van actually felt welcoming after his hour spent with Lettle. Something about the guy didn't sit right with Neal.

"Every word." Peter lowered the headphones and turned to look at Neal. "We've got something solid to go on now."

"You want us to move in? Make the arrest?" Jones asked.

"Not yet." Peter shook his head cautiously. "I don't think Lettle's the kind of guy who could plan all of this. I wanna find out who he's workin' for. We take him now, we lose that chance. Stay on him, though. I wanna know what he's up to."

"You got it." Jones said.

"Neal?" Peter turned to his CI. "What'd you think?"

"Of Lettle?" Neal pursed his lips. "There's something off about him. You're right, he's definitely not the one pulling the strings, but this still doesn't feel like a cut-and-dry forging case."

Peter nodded. "That's the same feeling I'm getting. There's something wrong here. Lettle—or whoever he's working for—has got a bigger game going. My gut's tellin' me we need to be cautious. You're done for the day. You can go home."

Neal picked up his tracking anklet from the counter where he had left it and raised his eyebrows. Peter shook his head. "You're off anklet until this whole thing's over. But I want you calling every hour to check in."

"Every hour?" Neal repeated. "Isn't it supposed to be every two hours? What'd I do?"

"Nothing—that I know of." Peter replied. "I'm just being cautious."

"Gut feeling." Neal nodded his understanding.

"It's rarely wrong." Peter said.

"I know." Neal stood up and headed for the van's exit. "I'll talk to you in an hour." he called over his shoulder.

He emerged into the bright afternoon sunlight and looked around. A cab was coming down the street. He thought about hailing it, then decided to walk instead. The weather was nice today; and he needed to think.

He set off towards home, hands in his pockets, deep in thought. This whole thing was too convenient. A small-time criminal comes out of nowhere and decides he needs something forged. He was way too eager to hire me. Of course I am the best in the business... A smile played across Neal's lips, then disappeared as he remembered Peter's words: "He's got a bigger game going..."

Game.

Neal stopped dead in his tracks. "Mark Lettle is his front man." he said in a horrified whisper. "It's an anag—"

Something hard connected with the back of his head, and then his world went black.