Mozzie shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at the sidewalk, his features pinched into an agonized wince. Slowly turning on his heel, he started for home. From where he was right now, it was five blocks back to the apartment he shared with Neal.

Five blocks to make a choice.

Five blocks to decide which form of betrayal would be worse.

Kate was in town! Neal would be thrilled! And the Suits would almost certainly be skulking around nearby, hidden in some cunningly concealed surveillance vehicle, waiting for him to take their bait and walk right into the jaws of their nefarious trap. How could Mozzie, in good conscience, send his dearest friend—his only friend—into the lion's den?

Maybe Neal won't go if I warn him it's probably a trap.

Neal? Not go to Kate? Mozzie almost laughed out loud at the sheer absurdity of the thought.

I don't have to tell him. He reasoned. He doesn't need to know anything.

Neal had street contacts, too. Not as many as Mozzie had, but one way or another, he would eventually get word that Kate was nearby. The Feds were using her to get to Neal, and there was nothing Mozzie could do about it.

It's better if he hears it from me than from someone else. Mozzie decided.

Suddenly he stopped in his tracks. There was something he could do. There was a third option.

I could make something up. I could tell him the Feds are onto us and that we need to leave right away. We could run before he has the chance to hear anything about Kate.

No. He shook his head and kept walking. If it were anyone else, Mozzie would take that option without hesitation. But it wasn't anyone else—it was Neal. And that made all the difference. Mozzie had made a promise to himself a long time ago that he would never lie to Neal, no matter what.

As a standard rule, con men lying to each other—even their own partners—was par for the course. Lack of trust came with the territory in their business.

But Neal was different. He was special. Mozzie had bonded to him like no one else. The young forger was more than just Mozzie's front man, he was his friend. Aside from Mr. Jeffries, Neal was the closest thing Mozzie had to family.

No lies, then. I'll tell him the truth. Kate's nearby, and it's probably a trap. What he does after that is up to him. I'll just have to hope he uses good sense for once.

He stopped when he reached the entrance to the apartment building. Slowly, with trepidation, he pushed open the door and headed up the stairs. In a few moments he had reached their floor. Taking a deep breath, he grasped the doorknob and turned it.

Neal stood on the other side of the room, his lean frame hunched over an easel as he studied a map. He stood up and turned around when he heard the door open.

"Hey, the ruby's in Burma. I'm gonna need a bush plane to get—" he stopped when he saw the forlorn expression on his friend's face. "Oh no, did your pigeon die?"

Mozzie shook his head. Not even that would rip my heart out as much as what I'm about to do.

It wasn't too late. He could still make something up.

No. No lies. Not with Neal.

With reluctance, Mozzie offered up his information. Neal took the slip of paper excitedly, thanked him, and made for the door. Mozzie gave him one last word of warning, and then Neal was gone, and Mozzie was left standing alone in the middle of the apartment, feeling like he had just sent a lamb to the slaughter.

Thanks to Mozzie's photographic memory, the vivid image of his best friend standing in front of him was permanently burned into his mind. He would never forget the spark that had illuminated the younger man's blue eyes and the look of renewed hope that had brightened his face.

It was a nice way to remember that face. And that was how he would remember it from now on, because Mozzie had the foreboding sense that it would be a long time before he ever saw Neal again.