Peter had Jones send Torrio and his men out first and waited until they were well out of sight before he held up his wrists for Jones to unlock the cuffs.

"Caffrey ran," Jones said, as he handed back Peter's badge and gun.

"Of course he did." Peter smiled crookedly. "He won't have gone far, though - we've still got Moreau." He looked past Jones to where Kate sat side-on in the back of the sedan; an EMT crouched solicitously in front of her.

Her eyes were still swollen with tears and the bruise darkening on her cheek only added to the pitiful appearance. It would take some kind of monster not to feel for her and Peter waited for Jones' expression to soften with sympathy.

When it did he tried not to laugh, but not that hard.

Jones frowned, injured on the woman's behalf. "She's hurt."

"Sure," Peter nodded. "But she's still playing him. And you. Watch."

They watched until the EMT turned away, and then Jones saw it. Nothing so obvious as a smile or even a change of expression, but the dazed look leeched out of her eyes and was replaced with something brighter and harder; something waiting for its chance.

Jones understood Peter's unwilling admiration now. "Oh, she's good."

Peter nodded his heartfelt agreement. "She really is, so keep an eye on her."

"She's cuffed to the door," Jones pointed out.

"So?" Peter stared at him. "God only knows what she took off the guy while he was patching her up, or from the workroom. Lose her and we lose Caffrey."

"You really think he's out there?"

"He's out there," Peter nodded, never more certain of anything in his life. He cast a look back to Jones and then started walking down the street; when he saw movement in the alley he veered that way.

Caffrey was standing just inside the narrow lane; he backed up as Peter walked towards him.

Peter kept walking and Caffrey kept backing up until there was a fence behind him and five feet between them.

Then, Peter stopped. "We had a deal."

"We did. We do," Neal said almost offhandedly. "Can't blame a guy for trying, right?"

Peter doubted many people would have heard the tension strung tight under the words and for a moment he was tempted to press on it, just a little, just to see how much of what made up Moreau was in Caffrey too.

The moment passed.

"This isn't trying," he said lightly. "Trying, you'd be two states over already. Probably after stealing my car. Again."

Caffrey laughed scornfully and shuffled a couple of inches away from the fence. "Your car? Please, who'd steal that? More than once. Allegedly. Can I talk to Kate?"

Peter shook his head and stayed where he was. "I don't think that's a good idea. She almost certainly has lock picks and you have impulse control issues. She can come visit you. After."

Another measured half-step away from the fence and Caffrey said, "Come on, five minutes. What could we do in five minutes?"

Peter shoved his hands into his pockets took a step forward. "I don't know, Caffrey - that would kind of be the point."

"Sixty seconds."

"This is an arrest," Peter explained carefully, "not a negotiation. In case you weren't clear."

"It can't be both? You could-"

Peter tilted his head. "You really aren't used to people saying no to you, are you?"

Caffrey stopped, ambushed mid-sell. "What?"

"How many people have said no to you and really meant it? Or told you how it's going to go and followed through? How many consequences have there been?"

"Okay, thanks, Dr. Phil. I get it." Scowling, Caffrey backed up again.

This time, Peter followed. "No, you don't. If you got it, I wouldn't be arresting you." He reached out slowly enough that Neal barely flinched when Peter turned him around to face the fence.

Cuffing the first wrist was no problem; the second one slipped away at first touch of metal. Peter waited for a moment and then asked conversationally, "Want me to tell you how it's going to go?"

"Not really," Neal muttered.

"Tough. You're going to confess to the bonds, because you'd be an idiot not to. Factor in points for helping us and you're looking at six to eight, out in four with good behavior.

"And you're going to do the time, Neal, because four years is a steal and we both know how much that appeals to you."

"And Kate?"

"Kate will be waiting for you," Peter said flatly, and wished it wasn't true. He liked Caffrey and he liked Moreau, he really did, but they were the worst things that could possibly happen to each other. "She'll be fine," he added.

Caffrey stopped resisting abruptly; Peter shut the second cuff quickly and then tightened both.

"You're really going to let her go?" Caffrey's tone was intent.

"I told you I would." Peter pulled him around and then took out his phone; he held it between them as he dialed Jones. "She can walk," he said when the man answered.

Jones gave the affirmative and Peter led Caffrey to the mouth of the alley. They watched as Kate was uncuffed, her expression wary as she waited for the catch. Jones said something and raised his hand to point and she wasted no time hurrying away.

She didn't look back.

When she was out of sight, Peter put a hand on Neal's shoulder and shepherded him out into the street.

As they approached the huddle of patrol cars, Caffrey's shoulders dropped and his chin came up. He grinned wickedly at the first officer they passed and then looked back to Peter. "Aren't you going to read me my rights? Do I get a phone call? Hey, does that file in the cake thing ever work?"

Which of them Caffrey was trying to con Peter wasn't sure, but for once – just for once – he thought he could risk playing along. "That comes later, you get phone privileges if you behave, and only in the movies."

There were a couple of seconds of silence and then, "Are they going to make me wear orange? Because orange really isn't my color. I'm more of a spring."

"I'm sure you'll pull it off," Peter replied in measured tones.

"Is that the same suit you were wearing in Arizona?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Nothing."

Peter could suddenly see exactly what the drive back to New York was going to look like and he wasn't sure either of them was going to survive it.

"It's my suit," he said defensively.

"You say that like it's your only suit."

"I have two."

"Two." Caffrey repeated and sounded pained.

"There's nothing wrong with the suit."

"Arizona was three years ago, Peter."

"Agent Burke," Peter ground out.

"No, Neal Caffrey, we established that. And, you know, I can give you the names of a few tailors-"

Peter reached past him to open the sedan door. "Or not. And don't send them to my wife, either."

"At least she'd appreciate them. She liked the cards."

"Cards?" Peter paused half way to cushioning Caffrey's head as he put him in the car and glared down.

Neal slipped the rest of the way in to the patrol car himself and stared up innocently. "Cards? What cards?"

"Caffrey …"

When no answer was forthcoming, Peter slammed the door and turned away and then – and only then - did he let himself grin.

-o-

Five minutes later, he opened it to reclaim his wallet, key chain and cell phone.