Pilot Transcript

A transcript is a retrospective written record of dialogue, and like a script (a prospective record) may include other scene information such as props or actions. In the case of a transcript of a film or television episode, ideally it is a verbatim record. Because closed-captioning is usually written separately, its text may have errors and does not necessarily reflect the true canonical transcript.

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This transcript for White Collar is based on the transcriptions by Afiawri, with assistance from Photoash (hosts episodes and helped with parts of the transcripts), Wednesday_10_00 (helped with the Japanese in Home Invasion), and Tzikeh and Nightcamedown helped with the wine in Bottlenecked. Afiawri has generously granted us permission to share/host these transcripts.

Disclaimer: This transcript is intended for educational and promotional purposes only, and may not be reproduced commercially without permission from the producers. The description contained herein represents viewers' secondhand experience of White Collar.

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Episode 1x01: "Pilot"
Written by: Jeff Eastin
Directed by: Bronwen Hughes

Act 1

[Neal in a bathroom hurriedly trimming then shaving a scraggly beard. Puts on policeman uniform hidden in the back of the toilet. Shift bell rings. Neal exists a "STAFF ONLY" door and walks past inmates working. Strolls past a line of inmates. Swipes a card through a reader, gate opens. A policeman catches the door. Neal thinks he's caught. The guard holds the door open with a smile. Neal walks out the front door. Words superimposed: "NEAL CAFFREY CONVICTED: BOND FORGERY, SUSPECTED: COUNTERFEITING, SECURITIES FRAUD, ART THEFT, RACKETEERING".]

[Cut to: Neal hotwiring a rickety old truck, pops in a cassette- music plays- pulls three dollars out of the ash tray, and smiles.] [Cut to: truck driving down the road. Shots of the city. Then, Neal reaching for a yellow windbreaker on a jacket rack on the sidewalk.]

Man selling the jackets: Hi, how are you doing, man? Neal: Good, how're you doing? Man: I'm fine.

[Neal whips on jacket in front of a mirror.]

Man: Only five bucks, man. Neal: [smiles] I'll give you three.

[Cut to: airport. Line of cars. Several people wearing identical yellow windbreakers parking the cars. Rich man pulls up.]

Neal: [jogs over] Sir!

Rich man: Take good care of her, I'll be back in a month. [Hands Neal a hundred dollar bill.]

Neal: Thank you, Sir. [Pulls away in the car.] [Cut to: bridge. Cut to: Neal driving Rich man's car down the bridge, lets out a breath with a smile. Cut to: front of a bank. Cut to: FBI agents, standing around, waiting.]

[Technician places ear to vault. Sound of lock turning. Sound equipment is shown hooked up to the vault. Agent Peter Burke is impatient.]

Technician: Drop three.

[Peter lets out a breath.]

Technician: Drop two. Drop four. All pins down, preparing to open.

Peter, muttering: Three, two, four...?

[Technician reaches for handle.]

Peter: Three, two, four. [shouts:] Wait!

[Vault explodes. Dust everywhere. FBI agents double over, coughing.]

Peter: Are you okay!? [Runs into the vault room, comes back out with technician.]

Technician: What happened?

Peter: I said wait, you didn't wait! Ah! Ten thousand man hours to get this close to the Dutchman and you blow up my evidence.

Jones: Agent Burke, how did you know it was going to do that?

Peter, dusting himself off: Three-two-four. Look at your phones. What's it spell?

Jones: Oh, FBI. Peter: Yeah, FBI. Jones: Apparently knew we were coming.

Peter: You think so, Copernicus? Somebody wanna- wanna tell me what this is? [pulls a red fiber of his jacket] Huh? Anybody? Nobody knows what it is. Great. Look at you. How many of you went to Harvard?

[Most of the agents raise their hands.]

Peter, exasperated: Don't- don't raise your hands. Don't. [Spots probationary officer Diana making her way through the agents.] Ah, Diana. Look at this. Apparently our boy has a sense of humor.

[Diana looks grim.]

Peter: What?

Diana, quietly: Neal Caffrey escaped.

--

[Cut to: Peter and Diana walking down a hallway. Diana hands him a file.]

Peter: What's this?

Diana: U.S. Marshalls are requesting your help.

Peter: My help?

Diana: Director Thompson asked for you personally.

Peter: Me? Why would he want me?

Diana: Probably because you're the only one who ever caught him.

[Words superimposed: PETER BURKE F.B.I. WHITE COLLAR CRIME UNIT, NYC]

[Cut to: Peter walking into the same prison Neal escaped.]

Director Thompson: Agent Burke. I'm Thompson, U.S. Marshalls. Appreciate the help. You were the case agent?

Peter: Yes, I was. Thompson: So you'll agree this is an unusual situation.

Peter: Why would Neal run with three months left on a four year sentence?

Thompson: Well, that's what we're wondering. [Haskley walks in.] This is Warden Haskley, Agent Burke, F.B.I.

Peter: You're the guy who dropped the ball.

Haskley: You of all people should know what Caffrey's capable of.

Peter: I know I spent three years of my life chasing him and you let him walk out the front door.

Thompson: Gentleman, might I remind you that Caffrey has a four hour head start?

[Peter and Haskley follow Thompson into the prison.]

[Cut to: Peter, Haskley, and Thompson walking along the cell block.]

Peter: Caffrey came out of the E-block staff bathroom dressed as a guard. Where did he get the uniform?

Thompson: Uniform supply company on the internet. Peter: He used a credit card?

[Thompson shoots Haskley a dirty look.]

Haskley: [clears throat] He, uh, used my wife's American Express.

Thompson: We're tracking the number in case he uses it again, Peter: He won't.

[They arrive at Neal Caffrey's cell. He has paintings on the wall, piles of books on the bed, and a wall full of tally marks. Peter walks into the cell, studies the wall.]

Peter: How'd he get the key cards for the gate?

Thompson: Well, we think he restriped a utility card using the record head on that. [Nods to cassette player on the table.]

Peter: [ejects the cassette, flips it over] Should've given him a CD player. [Sits on the bed and picks up a book.]

Thompson: He walked out the front door, hotwired a maintenance truck in the parking lot.

[Peter flips through a truck maintenance manual.] Thompson: We found it abandoned near the airport.

Haskley: We beefed up security just in case he tries to get out that way. Peter: Well, we're not going to catch Caffrey using roadblocks and wanted posters.

[Pulls a flyer out of a book. Examines the flyer; it says: Executive Services Airport Parking and has a picture of men in yellow windbreakers. Leans over the broken mirror Neal used to shave and picks up the razor.]

Haskley: He shaved his beard just before he escaped.

Peter: Neal doesn't have a beard.

[Cut to: Security camera footage of Neal with a scraggly beard.]

Haskley: The inmates are photographed each morning as they exit their cells.

Peter: I hardly recognize him.

Thompson: Yeah, I think that's the point.

Peter: [Indicates the TV] This morning?

Technician: Yes.

Peter: Run the series back.

[Video rewinds day after day, Neal's beard slowly disappearing.]

Peter: Stop.

[Video stops and then plays an image of clean-shaven Neal.]

Peter: That's it, when he stopped shaving. I want to know everything that happened that day.

[Cut to: image of log book. Next to "Neal Caffrey" is the name "Kate Moreau."]

Peter: He had a visitor. [Plops down log book and puts a hand to his face.]

Thompson: Kate Moreau. You know her?

Peter: Yeah, I do.

[Cut to security footage of Kate talking to Neal through a glass partition.]

Peter: No audio?

Haskley: No.

Thompson: [flips through log book.] She comes back every week like clockwork.

Peter, intent on video: She's not thrilled about this visit.

[On the video, Kate stands up, saying something. Neal puts his hand to the glass, reaching out to her.]

Thompson: How soon can we get a lip reader in here?

Peter: I'll save you the trouble. 'Adios, Neal. It's been real.'

[Image of Neal's face reflected in the partition, he's clearly pleading with her.]

Peter: She come back next week?

Thompson: Ah, she never came back.

Peter: Okay, lets find Kate.

[On the video, Neal stands up, still entreating Kate, even though she's walked off.]

[Cut to: Aerial view of three cars pulling up in a street, one of them a marked police car. Men can be heard shouting.]

[Cut to: A Bordeaux wine bottle, slowly rotating in Neal's hands.] [Neal sighs; he's clearly upset.]

Peter: [Walks down the hallway toward the room Neal's in.] I see Kate moved out.

[Neal looks up, sighs.]

Peter, sympathetic: She leave you a message in that?

Neal: The bottle is the message.

Peter: It's been a while.

Neal: Yeah, few years, give or take.

Peter: You carrying?

Neal: You know I don't like guns.

Peter: They asked me, what makes a guy like you pull a boneheaded escape with four months to go?

Neal: Guess you figured it out.

Peter: Kate says adios to you in prison and gets busy with her disappearing act. The trail ends here. But you already know that.

Neal: Missed her by two days.

Peter: Still. Only took you a month and a half to escape a supermax. Damn impressive.

[Neal manages a small laugh. Peter's radio buzzes.]

Peter, into the radio: Subject identified and unarmed.

Radio: Roger that.

Neal: We surrounded?

[Peter nods.]

Neal: How many?

Peter, appearing to think: Including my agents, and the Marshalls? All of them, I think.

[Neal nods.]

Peter: What's the message?

Neal: Good-bye.

[Sets down bottle.]

Peter: Women.

Neal: Tch.

Peter: They're gonna give you another four years for this, you know.

Neal, despondently: I don't care.

[Peter gives Neal a sympathetic look.]

Neal: [Looks at Peter. Chuckles. Stands up.] That's the same suit you were wearing the last time you arrested me.

Peter: [Shrugs] Classics never go out of style.

Neal: [Narrows his eyes. Slowly, so that Peter can see he's not trying anything, plucks a fiber off of Peter's jacket.] You know what this is?

Peter: [Laughs.] No idea. I got from a case I was supposed to be working on before they yanked me off to find you.

[In the background, men can be heard, faintly, shouting to each other.]

Neal: You think you'll catch him?

Peter: Don't know. He's good. Maybe as good as you.

Neal: [Gives a small snort of derision.] What's it worth if I tell you what this is? Is it worth a meeting?

Peter: What are you talking abou-?

Neal: If I tell you what this is, right now, will you agree to meet me back in prison in one week?

[Peter mulls to over.]

Neal: Just a meeting.

Armed men not yet on screen: Hallway, clear! You two, now get moving!

Neal: It's a security fiber for the new Canadian hundred dollar bill. [Hands the fiber back to Peter.]

[Armed men burst into the room and handcuff Neal.]

Neal: One week.

Act 2

[Cut to: shots of the city. Cut to Peter walking down the hall.]

Peter, to Diana: Hey. What's got the belt and suspender boys all riled up.?

Diana: You.

Peter: Me? What'd I do?

Diana: Caffrey was right. That stuff from the bank vault? Security fibers for the Canadian hundred.

Peter: [Let's out a breath.] I'll be damned

Diana: Apparently, the formulation's still classified. The Canadian Secret Service are very curious to know how you figured it out.

Peter: This should be fun.

Diana: You may have started an international incident.

Peter's voice: How'd you know?

[Cut to Neal, in prison orange, sitting at a table. A guard stands behind him.]

Neal: C'mon, Peter. It's what I do. How upset were the Canadians?

Peter: [laughs] Oh, very. Well, as upset as Canadians can get. Alright, so, I agreed to a meeting. We're meeting.

Neal: I know why you call him the Dutchman.

[Peter is surprised.]

Neal: Like the ghost ship, he disappears whenever you get close.

Peter: How do you know anything about him?

Neal: You know my life, you don't think I know yours? Did you get the birthday cards?

Peter: Nice touch.

Neal: You've been after the Dutchman almost as long as you were after me. I'll help you catch him.

Peter: Really? Really, how does that work? You wanna be prison pen pals?

[Neal opens a folder on the table in front of him. Peter sits down and picks up the papers in the folder.]

Neal: You can get me out of here. There's case law, precedent. I can be released into your custody-

Peter: Nice. This is very nice. But you're right, I do know you, and I know the second you're out, you'll take off after Kate.

Neal, earnestly: Peter, I am not gonna run.

[Peter gives Neal a look that says, Uh-huh, yeah, sure.]

Neal: [Slides another sheet of paper to Peter.] GPS tracking anklet. The new ones are tamper proof, never been skipped on.

Peter: There's always a first time.

Neal: Think about it.

Peter: Sorry, Neal. [Gets up, pats Neal on the shoulder.] Nice try. [Leaves.]

[Neal turns and watches his ticket out of prison walk out the door.]

[Cut to: Outside the prison. Cut to: Bobby the policeman walking down the cell block.]

Bobby's radio: Lights out, Bobby, shut 'em down.

Bobby: Neal, gotta turn that off.

Neal: Get one more minute, Bobby?

Bobby: Okay, one more minute.

Neal: Is it midnight yet?

Bobby: Yeah, it's midnight.

[Neal sits up on his bed and looks at his wall of tally marks. He adds a final one. He stands there a minute, looking at all of them. He swipes through them, violently, drawing a big blobby X through them, shattering the naked light bulb in the process. He sighs, runs his fingers through his hair, sighs again, and turns to the opposite wall. He makes a new mark: the start of his second four-year imprisonment. He hangs his head.] -- [Cut to: The Burke's living room. Peter has piles of papers spread out in front of him. He picks up a card with a picture of cupcake and the words "Happy Birthday" on it. He sets it back down. Elizabeth comes down the stairs.]

Elizabeth: Coming to bed tonight?

Peter: Yeah

Elizabeth: [Hugs Peter from behind.] What's wrong?

Peter: Nothing.

Elizabeth: Oh, don't tell me it's Neal Caffrey! I've been competing with him for three years.

Peter: He'd be out today.

Elizabeth: You're considering his offer?

[Peter shrugs.]

Elizabeth: Well, of course you are, or you'd be in bed with me. [Grins.] Can he help you find him?

Peter: Neal's smart. You know how much I like smart.

Elizabeth, joking: Is he as smart as those Ivy League Co-eds they throw at you?

Peter: He's almost as brilliant as the woman I married. Elizabeth: Ooh, good answer. So, what's the problem?

Peter: This is not the way it's supposed to go. You get caught, you do your time. There's more to this, more to this than some lost love. Some side angle he's playing.

Elizabeth: So you suggest he escapes a maximum security prison, knowing full well that you'd catch him, just so he could trick you into letting him out again?

Peter: It's a working theory.

Elizabeth: Yeah, keeping working.

[They laugh.]

Elizabeth: Is it so hard for you to believe a man would do that for the woman he loves?

Peter: Neal just bought himself four more years in prison. For what?

Elizabeth: For what? If you were Neal, you wouldn't have run for me.

[Peter's mouth open and closes, but he doesn't say anything.]

--

[Cut to: prison door opening. Neal walks out.]

Peter: Let me see it.

[Neal hitches up his pant leg, revealing the tracker.]

Peter: You understand how this works?

Neal: I'm being released into the custody of the FBI, under your supervision, and this thing chaffs my leg. Anything I'm missing?

Peter: Yeah, if you run, and I catch you, which you know I will because I'm 2 and 0, you're not back here for four years, you're back here for good.

[Neal nods.]

Peter: You're going to be tempted to look for Kate. Don't.

Neal: I told you: the bottle meant good-bye.

Peter: Then leave it at that. This is a temporary situation. Help me catch the Dutchman, we can make it permanent.

Neal: Where we headed?

Peter: Your new home.

[Cut to: dirty sign, "HOTEL"]

Peter's voice: This is Neal Caffrey, my office called earlier.

[Cut to a grinning Peter and an uncomfortable Neal in really crappy hotel lobby.]

Man working the hotel desk: [Holds out a key to Neal.] There you go, Snake Eyes.

Neal: Thank you.

[Quietly, to Peter:] Can I talk to you for a second? [Draws Peter away. Glances at the man standing right there.] Pst, maybe a little farther down.

[Man at the desk swats a fly with a ping pong racket.]

Neal, still whispering: Do I have to stay here?

Peter, not quite as quietly: Cowboy up. All right, it costs 700 a month to house you on the inside, so that's what it costs here. For the money, this is as good as it gets. You find something better- take it.

Neal, whispering: What about clothes? I'm wearing my entire wardrobe.

Peter: You like thrift stores. There's one at the end of the block.

[Neal opens his mouth.]

Peter, not at all concerned about keeping his voice down: No, don't start, no, no protests. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Look at it, it's not- Oh, look at her, you don't get that in prison, do you? No, not at all.

Woman leaning against the counter: He-ey.

Peter: Listen, your tracking anklet is set up so you can go anywhere within two miles of this place.

Here's your homework.

[Plops rather large file into Neal's hand.]

Remember, two miles.

[Jabs Neal in the chest and turns to leave.]

I'll see you at 7 AM.

[Closes the door and is gone.]

[The man behind the counter swats another fly.]

--

[Cut to Neal flipping unhappily through a rack of pants. An older, clearly very rich, lady enters; June.]

Clerk: Hello.

June: I've come to donate these.

[Neal wonders over inconspicuously.]

Clerk: Old suits.

June: mm-hmm.

Neal: Those are fantastic.

June: Ooh! They belong to my late husband, Byron. He really had great taste in clothes.

Neal: Oh. May I?

[The clerk hands him a jacket, which he examines

Neal: [Appreciatively:] This is a Devore.

June: Yes, he won it from Sy himself.

Neal: Won it?

June: He beat him at a back door draw.

Neal: Your husband played poker with Sy Devore?

June: He certainly did. And so did I.

Neal, blown away: No.

June: Yes. The guys would even let me sit in once in a while on a hand. And I was good.

[Neal laughs and reaches for one of Byron's old hats, and flips it onto his head.]

June: I'm glad to see you appreciate these. I was hoping someone would. I've got a whole closet full of them.

Neal: A whole closet?

June: Mm-hmm. Well, actually, it's a guest room, but, um, but I haven't used it for anything but storage for years.

[Neal shrugs into a jacket.]

June: Oh, Byron used to wear that one whenever we went dancing. The neighborhood was... let's say it was much nicer than.

Neal: Well, you live nearby?

June: Not far.

[Neal grins.]

--

[Cut to: shots of the city. Cut to: Peter walking into the shabby hotel lobby.]

Peter: [To hotel clerk] Hey. I'm here for Caffrey, room 11.

Clerk: Oh, yeah, yeah, ol' Snake Eyes. Nice Guy. Left ya a note.

[Hands Peter a note.]

[Peter unfolds the note. It says, "Dear Peter, I have moved 1.6 miles," lists an address, and is signed, "XOXO Neal". Peter is exasperated.]

[Cut to: Peter getting out of the car, gaping at the house.]

Peter: You've got to be kidding me.

[It is an opulent, old building. Peter knocks. A maid answers.]

Peter: I think I have the wrong address.

June: [from the next room] You must be Peter.

Peter, in disbelief: I'm looking for Neal Caffrey.

June: He's upstairs.

[Peter is speechless.]

[Cut to Peter opening the door to the roof. Neal is lounging in a robe, reading a newspaper.]

Neal: You're early. Peter: We chasing a lead at the airport. We got a hit on Snow White.

Neal: Snow White... the phrase you decoded from a suspected Dutchman comunicade at Barcelona. Uh.

Peter: You moved.

Neal: Yeah, it's nice than the other place, don't you think?

Peter: Yeah, I don't remember the other place having a view.

Neal: I went to the thrift store, like you suggested, and June-

Peter: Lady with the dog. We met.

Neal: Was donating her late husband's clothes. We hit it off, she had an extra guest room...

Peter: Ehm. Neal: You said, if I find a nice place for the same price, I should take it.

Peter: I did say that. All this for seven hundred?

Neal: Yep. But I help out around the place.

Peter: Oh, sure, feed the dog-

Neal: Yeah, wash the Jag, watch her

daughter from time to time.

Peter: She's got you baby sitting?

[A really hot young girl- though obviously not as young as Peter was thinking- walks by.]

Peter: How's it going?

Cindy: Morning, Neal.

Peter: Granddaughter?

Neal: She's an art student.

Peter: Unbelievable. Go get dressed.

[Neal leaves.]

Peter: You mind?

[He sits.]

[June's pug pulls her on screen.]

Cyndi: Hey, Grandma.

June: Good morning, Cyndi.

Peter: [sips coffee.] It's perfect. Even the freaking coffee's perfect.

[June laughs.]

Peter: That's not jewelry on his ankle, you know. He's a felon.

June: [leans forward and says conspiratorially.] So was Byron.

[Cut to Neal walking down the stairs. He twirls a hat onto his head.]

Peter: You look like a cartoon.

Neal: This is classic Rat Pac. This is a Devore.

Peter: Oh, sorry. Dino.

[Neal takes of the hat and flips onto his head again.]

Peter: Would you stop with the hat? C'mon, let’s go.

Neal: You're upset! [Under his breath:] Sour grapes.

Peter: What was that?

Neal: Look, you tell me which rule I broke and I will thumb it back to prison myself.

Peter: For starters... [Can’t think of one.]

Neal: Mm?

Peter: I work hard, I do my job well, and I don't have a 10 million dollar view of Manhattan that I share with a 22 year-old art student while we sip espresso!

Neal: Why not?

Peter: Why not?

Neal: Yeah.

Peter: Because I'm not supposed to. The amount of work I do equals certain things in the real world not- cappuccino in the clouds!

Neal: Look, I will find out where June buys her coffee if it's that important.

Peter: It's not about the coffee.

Neal: I think it is.

Peter: No, it's not.

[Neal just looks at him. Peter laughs a little.]

Peter: This is what gets you into trouble. This is the start of those something-for-nothing schemes that lead to the frauds that got you locked up.

Neal: I think it's... some sort of Italian roast.

Peter: Get in the car!

Neal: Okay.

[Peter follows Neal out the door.]

--

[Cut to airport.]

Neal: Who's that?

Peter: That's Diana. Diana's my probie.

Neal: Probie?

Peter: Probationary agent. She does everything I don't, she's very good at her job, and she can do way better than you.

[They reach Diana. To Diana:] Hey.

Diana: You must be Neal Caffrey. Nice hat.

[Neal grins.]

Peter: What've we got?

Diana: His name's Tony Field. Customs flagged him coming in from Spain in response to our Snow White BOLO.

Peter: Customs playing nice?

Diana: Ah, the usual chest pounding. He's in their custody, not ours.

Peter: Less paperwork for me. What's he carrying?

Diana: Oh, you're gonna love this.

[Cut to: Suit cases full of books. Diana, Neal, and Peter are all examining them.]

Peter: Blancanieves y Los Siete Enanos?

Neal: Snow White and her Seven Little Men.

Peter: This is what triggered our alert? What do we know about this guy?

Diana: Says he's a rare book dealer.

Peter: Anything wrong with his paperwork?

Diana: Nope. He brought in the same books in the same quantity on three previous trips. He declared them each time.

Peter: All right, Dino. Are we wasting our time?

Neal: They're not limited runs or special editions. Can't be worth much.

Peter: So why go through all the trouble of flying them in?

Neal: Good question.

Diana: He sure is nervous for having all the right paper work.

Peter: I want to talk to him.

Diana: I'll set it up. Hey boss, I'm grabbing some coffee. You want some?

Peter: Yeah, anything but decaf.

Neal: Diana, I'll take mine straight.

Diana: Neal, the coffee shop's outside.

Peter: You are way out of your league.

Neal: Oh, harmless flirting. It's like a dance.

Peter: No, there is no dance. You're not even on her dance card. No dancing for you.

Neal: Um, she digs the hat. Peter: Um, she'd rather be wearing that hat.

[Neal looks blank for a second. Then he catches on.]

--

[Cut to: Tony Field.]

Peter: Peter Burke, FBI.

Tony: FBI? Oh, you're really kicking it up a notch.

Peter: So, you're a book dealer.

Tony: Yes, well, as I told everyone here, repeatedly, my business is the import and sale of rare books.

Peter: How rare can they be? You've got 600 of them.

Tony: Like me to go the crime lab, help you dust for fingerprints.

Peter: I get it. 'Cause I'm telling you how to do your job.

Tony: [has a look like: Yeah, that /was/ the joke.]

Peter: So... Snow White. In Spanish.

Tony: Snow White was not created by Disney, detective. There are a few stories the predate Steamboat Willie.

Peter: I'm a federal agent. And, you mean folklore, the virginally pure queen? Like Alexander Pushkin's "Tale of the White Princess and the Seven Knights." Is that what you mean?

[Tony is caught off-guard.]

Peter: What are the books for?

[Before Tony can answer the door bursts open.]

Lawyer: I'd appreciate if you didn't talk to my client. Constitution and all.

Peter: Were you chasing the ambulance or did that give you a ride? Huh? Must've thumbed it.

[Closes the door behind him.]

[Cut to: Diana flirting with a female customs agent, Neal watching. Peter walks up to Neal.]

Neal: No dance, huh?

Peter: Not for you.

Neal: I thought the FBI had a policy.

Peter: That's the military. We don't ask. We don't care. [To Diana:] Where's the Customs Inspector?

Diana: [Walks over, pointing] Neal was right, the books aren't worth much. You can pick them up for a few dollars on Ebay.

Peter: [To Customs Inspector as he draws near] Hey, why didn't you tell me that guy lawyered up? The second he makes that call, I can't talk to him.

Customs Inspector: He didn't call anybody.

Peter: Then how did his lawyer know that he- [Peter has an epiphany. He starts running. The Inspector, Neal, and Diana follow.

[Cut to: Peter bursting through the door, everyone behind him. He runs up to Tony, sees the hypodermic needle in his neck, and backs off.]

Customs Inspector: I need paramedics in here now!

Peter: Nobody frisked the lawyer?!

--

[Cut to: Neal, Diana, and Peter pouring over the suit cases of books.]

Peter: Got a dead book dealer, a killer lawyer and a bunch of worthless books. All right, come on, as a reformed professional counterfeiter, what is the Dutchman's interest in these?

Neal: [Stares at book. Muttering:] Published 1944 in Madrid. [He gets it.] This is what he's after.

[Slides ruler under the top sheet of the book.]

Peter: Top sheet?

Neal: Eh, more than that. This is a piece of 1944 Spanish press parchment.

Peter: That's what he wanted. Good. This is good.

Diana: He's going to counterfeit something that was originally printed on paper like that.

Neal: That's what I would do.

Peter: Tony made three prior shipments with these.

Neal: Two blank pages of a book is 600 sheets.

Peter: Too many for paintings, not enough for currency. I bet our dead book dealer knew. Diana, where's that wallet?

Diana: It's right here.

Peter: [Leafs through wallet.] This is where he went, the day before he left for Spain.

[Throws down a visitor pass to The National Archives.]

[Cut to: Outside the National Archive building. Cut to: Inside the National Archive building.]

Act 3

Archivist [whose name is Vincent]: I do remember him; he came by several months ago and then again last week. This is what he came to see. [Lays down a piece of parchment on the table, carefully.] The Spanish Victory Bond. He took several photographs of it, said he was going to write a book. It's a shame he's dead. This bond does have a fascinating history.

Neal: It's a Goya.

Vincent: Yes. Beautiful, isn't it?

Peter: [Takes out the parchment from the book and lays it over the bond.] Oh, look at that. A perfect fit. You're starting to earn your 700 a month.

Neal: You said it had a fascinating history.

Vincent: Quite. It was issued during the war.

Neal: 1944.

Vincent: Yes. Yeah, the U.S. issued to support the Spanish underground in their battle against the Axis. Very few have ever been redeemed. [Realization music as Neal studies the bond.] There's speculation that entire boxes were captured and many are still hidden away in the caves of Altamira.

Peter: Whole boxes of these?

Vincent: Yeah. Boy, that would be something, wouldn't it? This is the only surviving copy.

Neal: Except it's a forgery.

[Peter and Vincent look stunned.]

Vincent: No, that's not possible.

Peter: What are you talking about?

Neal: Ah, it's the ink. This is an iron-gal dye mixed to match the period colors. But it hasn't dried yet. You can still smell the gum arabic.

[Offers it Vincent and Peter for a sniff. They sniff it.]

Vincent: Uh, no. This has been here since 1952.

Neal: It's been here less than a week.

--

[Cut to: FBI office building. Cut to: FBI conference room.]

Peter: Okay, Tony makes two trips. First time he takes a picture of the bond. The second time he steals the original and replaces it with this copy. Can we confirm that?

Jones: The timed ink identification test puts the age of the bond at approximately six days. Which coincides with Tony's visit.

Diana: We're pulling surveillance video to back it up.

Peter: Good. So, the question is why go through the trouble of making a really nice forgery, on the right kind of paper just to stick it back in the archives.

Neal: Is the bond still negotiable?

Peter: It's a zero option, so it never expires. What's it worth?

Jones: Thousand dollars face value, drawing nine percent interest.

Diana: Compounded for sixty-four years.

[Diana and Jones bend over a calculator.]

Neal: 248 thousand dollars.

Jones: What he said.

Peter: Quarter of a million, not chump change. And he's got 600 sheets of the stuff.

[Diana looks to Neal.] Neal: [thinks a minute] 150 million, give or take.

Peter: He'd be a rich man if he could pass them off, but that still doesn't tell us why he would take out the real bond and put in a forgery.

Neal: I think it does. What if he claimed he found boxes of the original bonds?

Peter: Dragged them out of the caves in Spain.

Neal: Yeah, how would they be authenticated?

Peter: They'd be taken to the archives and compared to the original.

Neal: Which he's already switched out with one of his own copies.

Peter: So of course they'd match. Oh, this is good. This really good. All right let's think about this.

[Phone rings.]

Diana: It's Elizabeth.

[Peter winces and gestures everyone out.]

Peter: Hey. Would you believe me if I said I was pulling up in front of the house now?

Elizabeth: You lost track of time. It happens. Peter: I hope you didn't make dinner.

Elizabeth: Did you forget who you married? I am smarter than that. So, how's Neal doing? [To the dog:] Satchmo! [gestures him into Peter's chair; he eats Peter's dinner.]

Peter: He met Diana.

Elizabeth: Oh, a woman who can resist his charms. Bet that's taking some getting used to. Is he helping?

Peter: We're on to something here, El.

Elizabeth: So, I won't wait up.

Peter: I'm leaving. Ten minutes, I promise. Twenty at the most.

Elizabeth: I know.

Peter: Bye.

[They hang up.]

Elizabeth: [to the dog] Chew your food. You sound like your father.

[Cut to Peter and Neal in Peter's car.]

Neal: Big plans for the weekend?

Peter: Oh, you know, I gotta fix the sink, catch the game.

Neal: With Elizabeth?

Peter: Yeah, yeah, she's into it. How cool is that? She likes to watch the Giants.

Neal: Uh-huh. Even on your anniversary? [Peter brings the car to a halt in the middle of the street.] Ooh.

Peter: I see this stuff coming from six months out and then I take it right in the teeth, every time.

Neal: Relax, man you still have a few days.

Peter: No, this is what happened last year. I said I'd make up for it with something special, not just a corner booth at Donatella's! And a romp in the sheets.

Neal: Skip the dinner.

Peter: Well, we've been married a decade. That doesn't cut it anymore.

Neal: Okay, Romeo. Let's- let's problems solve. What's she into?

Peter: Sexually?

Neal: Ew, no. No. Existentially. What makes her feel alive?

Peter: I'm drawing a blank.

Neal: How could you not know? When you were chasing me you knew my show size, what time I woke up in the morning-

Peter: That-that's the job. It's very different.

Neal: So a relationship isn't work?

Peter: Oh, no, no. You don't get to lecture me on relationships. My wife didn't change her identity and flee the country to get away from me.

Neal: [Can't believe Peter just said that.]

Peter: [Starts driving again.] That was harsh. I didn't-I didn't mean that.

Neal: Yeah, you did.

Peter: Eh.

Neal: Did she really flee the country?

Peter: I don't know.

Neal: France? Did she go to France?

Peter: I don't know. What am I gonna do?

Neal: No, no more relationship from this side of the car. Call Dr. Phil, okay?

--

[Cut to: Neal climbing the stairs. He pauses at the sound of someone pouring a drink. Reaches for a cane out of the umbrella stand and creeps towards the intruder. He lowers it when the man speaks.]

Mozzie: I saw the best minds in my generation get run down by the drunken taxi cab of absolute reality.

[Neal switches on the light.]

Neal: The hell, Mozzie. Sitting in the dark, misquoting Getsburg?

Mozzie: The light's how they find you, man.

Neal: Hey, you know you can't just help yourself here. How'd you get in?

Mozzie: I used this. [Raises his fist.] I knocked. I introduced myself to June, she's great. You get a load of that granddaughter?

Neal: Thanks for coming.

Mozzie: What was I going to do? Not come? Can I see?

Neal: [Heaves his leg onto a chair back, revealing the tracker.] Can you pick it?

Mozzie: No way, no way. You flew to close to the sun my friend, they burned your wings.

Neal: Where's Kate, Moz? Where'd she go?

Mozzie: She's a ghost, man. She did an outstanding job of melting away.

Neal: Well, keep looking. Check France.

Mozzie: France?

Neal: I know, okay it's probably nothing, just- look everywhere. Something else. I need you to help me figure out who created this. [Pulls out the forgery.]

Mozzie: It's superb. You know the worst thing about art forgery? You can't take credit for your work.

--

[Cut to: Burke's bathroom. Peter is shaving his face.]

Peter: El? Honey? [Sneaks into their room and riffles through her books, her CDs, opens her laptop and opens an old vacation picture.] Ah, you haven't changed. I've changed.

[The phone rings. Peter closes the laptop and answers.]

Peter: Yeah, this is Burke.

Jones: It's Jones. Caffrey's anklet is activated. Is he with you?

Peter: No. I'm coming.

Jones: I've got Diana on it, pulling up his location.

Peter: El, I've got to go, Neal's outside his radius.

[Laughter. Peter comes down the stairs and sees Neal and Elizabeth looking at the forgery.]

Jones: Burke, you still there?

Peter: Caffrey is with me.

Jones: You're sure?

Peter: Yeah, yeah. [Hangs up.]

Elizabeth: Good morning, Honey.

Neal: Peter. Peter: You're on my couch.

Neal: Yeah, I came to talk to you, and, uh, frankly Peter, I have to say I'm surprised you have such an amazing wife.

Peter: Yeah, I like her. Get off my couch.

Elizabeth: Honey, we're just chatting.

Peter: Chatting. How did you get here?

Neal: Cab.

Peter: You activated your tracker. You're in my house, on my couch, with my wife.

[The dog whines.]

Neal: Oh, hey Satchmo.

Peter: And you're petting my dog.

Neal: Peter, did you really put Elizabeth under surveillance before you asked her out?

Peter: [Is embarrassed.]

Neal: Peter. I underestimated you.

Peter: You told him.

Elizabeth: Oh, he said he wanted to make sure I wasn't seeing anybody else. Honey, I think it's cute!

Neal: I think it's adorable.

Peter: I'm putting you back in prison.

[Dials phone.]

Neal: I know who the Dutchman is.

[The phone's ringing.]

Peter: Enlighten me.

Neal: Curtis Hagan.

[Peter hangs up the phone and shrugs at Neal.]

Neal: He's an art restorer. One of the best in the world, but his own work never took off. He's particularly good at Goya restorations. That's what this is, Peter. The bond is him showing off.

Peter: Interesting theory. How do we prove it?

Neal: He signed it.

Peter: I think we might've noticed a signature tucked in the corner.

Elizabeth: Show him.

Neal: Look at the pants on the Spanish peasant. What do you see? It's the initials C and H.

Peter: I don't know, that's a stretch.

Neal: This bond is a masterpiece. If I'd done something this good, I would've signed it. Hey, the forgeries you caught me on, I signed them.

Peter: Where?

Neal: Look at the bank seal under polarized light sometime.

[Peter winces.]

Neal: Hagan is doing a church restoration on Third Street; we can stop by on our way in.

Peter: Fine. Meet me in the car. [Neal doesn't move.] I'm going to say good-bye to my wife now.

Neal: It's nice to meet you.

Elizabeth: Nice to meet you. After all these years.

Act 4

[Cut to: a church. Men are busy at work painting.]

Peter: This is it?

Neal: Yep.

Priest: You can't come in, we're closed for restoration.

Peter: Oh, sorry, father.

Neal: Oh, could we- could we just- could we just have a moment, thank you. Father.

[takes the priest aside so Peter can't hear them.]

Peter: Wha-?

Neal, whispering: Please, Father, my best friend is having a crisis of the soul. He's a married man and he has the most devastatingly beautiful assistant at work, a very provocative woman. He's been tempted. More than tempted, I have details.

Priest: It's very common with men his age. Unfortunately, very common.

Neal: And I want to confront him about this before he tears apart his life. He has a lot of faults, I mean don't get me started, he is a mess, but he's very spiritual.

[They both look at Peter. He fidgets, smiles cluelessly.]

Neal: I know this is the place where my words will have the most effect.

Priest: This is the city of churches. We're closed. Surely, there's another place-"

Neal: This is where he was married.

Priest: [Sighs.] Five minutes.

Neal: Thank you, thank you, Father. Sorry about that, we've got five.

Peter: Did you just lie to a priest?

Neal: Do you think Diana's attractive?

Peter: Sure.

Neal: Then we're good.

[They walk up to painting.]

Neal: Extraordinary.

Peter: Real nice. Well, if this Hagan guy is as good as you say, how come I've never heard of him?

Neal: You only know the guys who got caught. You know the second best criminals.

Peter: What's that say about you?

Neal, annoyed: It says there's an exception to every rule. Look, C and H.

Peter: Where?

Neal: Right here. Right- there. C, H.

[Magnifies a pattern on the hem of a dress.]

Peter: Maybe.

Neal: What do you mean maybe? that's a C and an H.

Hagan: Can I help you, gentleman? Your face- it's very familiar. Maybe I've seen it on the news, or perhaps on a most wanted web page.

Neal: Neal Caffrey.

[Extends a hand.]

Hagan: Forgive me if I don't shake hands with an art thief.

Neal: I was never arrested for art theft.

Hagan: Not arrested, but as I recall you were known as quite the Renaissance criminal. So you can understand my concern at having you in my space. [To Peter] And... you are?

Peter: Just a friend.

Hagan: Well, friend. This church is closed.

[They leave.]

Neal: Did you see it?

Peter: Okay, you've got me curious, we'll check him out.

Priest: Listen to the spirit son, not the flesh.

Peter: I'll do that. [To Neal] What's that about?

[Cut to Peter in a conference room, Neal just entering.]

Peter: Shut the door. [Neal does.] Need your help with this.

Neal: This information on Hagan?

Peter: No, Diana's on her way with that.

Neal: This is your wife's visa bill.

Peter: Yeah, I got it all. Her Ebay bids, video rentals, library books. Thank you, Patriot Act.

Neal: So, you're stalking your own wife.

Peter: You want to compare notes.

Neal: Touché. You figure out what she likes?

Peter: Yeah, it's all in the summary. Pottery making, Nancy Drew mysteries, scented candles- Oleander. Old jazz. Anything Italian except anchovies-

Neal: Yeah, I don't think you're going to find your answer tucked into a list of her Ebay bids.

Peter: Then help me out here. All right, you're the romantic. I mean, what's the deal with the bottle.

Neal: It's an '82 Bordeaux. Peter: Yeah, costs 800 bucks a pop. Neal: It does when it's full. I got it empty.

Peter: Empty?

Neal: Look, when Kate and I met, we had nothing. I got that bottle, and I used to fill it up with whatever cheap wine we could afford and we'd sit in that crappy apartment and drink it over cold pizza and pretend we were living in the Cote d’Azur.

Peter: How'd that work out for you?

Neal: It didn't. Because that bottle was a promise of a better life. What Kate got was a guy locked away for half a decade. Make Elizabeth, any promises, Peter? Or do you think all she wants is Oleander candles?

[Diana knocks on the door.]

Peter: Hey, Diana. What've you got.

Diana: Hagan is leaving the country. He booked a flight through a private charter company in Barcelona for the 19th.

Peter: One week. Damn it, Neal, seeing you must've tipped him off.

Neal: He's going to Spain, that's something.

Peter: Is there any connection our books, the bonds, or the murder?

Diana: Hagan's as impressive as hell. A lot of international holdings, but he keeps himself out of the muck.

Peter: You get every available agent on this. You know the good ones, steal 'em if you have to. I want to know every single thing about this guy and I don't want any excuse. Anything gets in your way-

Diana: Forge your signature. Always do.

Peter: That's what I want to hear!

[Diana leaves.]

Peter: If you're right about Hagan, we have on week to connect him to the bond. If we lose him on the 19th... Neal, if we lose him, you're back in. I can't save you.

--

[Cut to Neal entering June's house. He slides his hat across the piano straight into Mozzie's waiting hand.]

Mozzie: You're late.

Neal: Hey, give me a break. I'm a working man now.

Mozzie: So?

Neal: We were right about Hagan.

Mozzie: Of course we were right.

Neal: And I was stupid and impulsive and he saw me. I have one week to link him to the bonds.

Mozzie: One week or what?

Neal: I go back.

Mozzie: No no no.

Neal: Yeah. Did you find anything about Kate?

Mozzie: Apparently, a tree falls in the forest, it does make a sound.

[He slides a photo to Neal. Kate's looking off to the side at a man whose ring and hand are on her shoulder.]

Neal: I may lose her again, Moz.

Mozzie: Lose her? I just found her?

Neal: So did he. So did he.

[Cut to Neal and Peter walking down the sidewalk.]

Neal: Remember when you told me not to look for Kate?

Peter: Yeah.

[Neal pulls the photo out of his pocket and hands it to Peter. Peter opens it. The man's hand has been sliced out of the photo; there's just Kate.]

Peter: Neal, you're putting me in a tough spot here.

Neal: These were taken four days ago at a San Diego ATM. She's going under the name Kate Perdue. You know what Perdue means in French?

Peter: Yeah, it means lost.

[He shoves the photo back at Neal.]

Neal: Yeah, it makes you wonder, right? Is she lost to me? Or without me?

Peter: Stop it.

Neal, quickly: Look, I just need a couple of days after this Dutchman thing is over, a couple days to go to San Diego. You can send an agent with me. You can come with me-

Peter: Stop it, stop it, stop it! How many times are you going to screw up your life for this girl? I hate to break it you, buddy, but she dumped you. With prejudice. Exactly what is your plan if you find her?

[Neal: shakes his head, unable to answer. Peter raises his eyebrows.]

Neal: I know there's more to our story. K, she disappears in the dust, no, that's not an ending.

Peter: C'mon, man. We've all been there. But it gets easier.

Neal: Not if she's the one.

[Peter sighs.]

Neal: I brought this to you. Doesn't that count for something?

Peter: No. We made a deal. I gave you something good here, and you're about to blow it.

Neal: [Fidgets, then laughs.] God. You're right, you're right, Peter. I'm a smart guy. I should know when I've been dumped.

[Peter doesn't buy it, but lets it go.]

Neal: You figure out your anniversary plans yet?

Peter: I'm getting close, very close.

Neal: So, you got nothing.

Peter: Nothing. But, I'll find it. -- [Neal spots Mozzie in a crowd of smokers.]

Neal: Hey, uh, I'm gonna to go grab a smoke real quick.

Peter: Didn't know you smoked.

Neal: Ah, it's a nasty prison habit, I've been trying to quit.

Peter: Jones, keep an eye on him.

Jones: Yep.

Neal: Bum one from ya?

Mozzie: These things'll kill ya.

Neal: That's what I keep hearing, but I'm not dead yet.

Mozzie: But these filters, they're good. Not for me, you understand. I tear 'em off.

Jones: Hey, you need a light. You should try the patch.

Mozzie: Two years and counting, my friend. I hate the tan lines.

Neal, quietly: You don't smoke.

Mozzie, also quiet: What was I supposed to do? Fire off a flare?

Neal: So, you tear of the filters.

Mozzie: Yeah, but I'm hard core.

[Chokes.]

--

[Cut to: Neal fiddling with a cigarette. He tears of the filter. Inside, there's an address. Neal grins.]

[Cut to: Peter in the conference room. He goes to the computer. There's a beach background on it. He smiles. Neal knocks.]

Peter: I found my bottle.

Neal: [Holds up address.] I found Hagan.

Peter: You first.

Neal: There's this warehouse, down by the docks. Hagan runs it through a shell corporation out of Guatemala.

Peter: We didn't know about this, how did you? Neal: I don't think you rely on rumor as much as I do.

Peter: Let's go.

--

[Cut to: Dock. Heavily guarded. Peter and Neal are out of sight, next to a large door.]

Neal: [Presses ear against door.] Did ya hear that? Peter.

Peter: Hear what?

Neal: Kind of a rhythmic shh-shh. That's a press. Damn it Peter, that is a printing press. He's printing bonds in there right now, you can hear him!

Peter: How long until they're done?

Neal: A multicolor print shop as complicated as the Goya. Test proofs, ink formulation, perfection registration, he'll be running it for days.

Peter: [Dials phone.] Diana.

Diana: Yeah, boss?

Peter: I need recording equipment down here immediately.

Diana: You got it.

[Cut to: conference room.]

Peter: I am on board. Hagan is our guy. We still don't have enough for a warrant.

Neal: We know the bonds are there, just open the door.

Peter: Neh. Mmm-hm. Well, you should read this. [Slides a book across the table to Neal.] Warrant law. All I've got is sound coming out of a warehouse and no way to link him to the bond. [Peter leans over the desk.] I've got to talk to your friend.

Neal: Friend?

Peter: C'mon, Neal, the guy who gave you a cigarette.

Neal: I have no-

Peter: What, do you think Jones is an idiot?

[Neal sighs.]

Peter: I have to know how he connected Hagan to the warehouse. C'mon, Neal, and you gotta trust me.

Neal: Okay, okay. I'll bring you to him. First thing tomorrow.

--

[Cut to: Neal, reading Warrant Law. Shirtless. He flips a page, closes the book. Looks at his tracker. Gets up, snags June's keys, and leaves.]

[Cut to: Peter's phone, vibrating.]

Peter: [Answers.] Yeah... Damn.

Elizabeth: What's going on.

Peter: He ran.

[Cut to Neal, driving.]

He opens the door, starts taking pictures of the warehouse.

Look-out: Hey!

[Three look-outs run up to Neal.]

Neal, innocently: Hey there!

Look-out: Hey! Hey! Hey! What're you doing? You can't be here.

Neal: Oh, I'm taking a class over at the Annex, and pictures of rusty sheet metal are a sure fire A.

[The look-outs grab Neal.]

Look-out: Take him in.

[They burst into the warehouse. Sure enough, stacks of Blancanieves y Los Siete Enanos are everywhere, and the printing press is still running. They march Neal to a glass office.

One of the men: Go get Hagan!

[They push Neal into the office.]

Hagan: What exactly is going on here?

[Neal rushes to lock the office door.]

Hagan: Why'd you him bring inside?!

Look-out: Taking pictures.

Man with a gun: Open the door! You're a dead man.

Neal: That sounds like inch-thick Lexan.

Hagan: [Signals a man, who runs off.] Keys are on the way.

Neal: [Wraps on the desk inside the office.] Nice. [Sits and puts his legs up on it.] You should've signed the bonds. I'm no stranger to vanity myself, so I understand the impulse.

Hagan: I'm gonna kill you. I hope whatever they're giving you, it's worth it.

Neal: It is.

[The sound of sirens. Hagan looks around nervously. Neal tugs back his pant leg to reveal the tracker, flashing red.]

Hagan: You are a particular kind of bastard!

[Neal shurgs.]

[Cut to: Peter, climbing out of a car.]

Peter, smiling: Gentlemen, we have a fugitive hiding in this building. Knock down those doors!

[Cut to Hagan and his men.]

Hagan: Grab the bonds, come on, let's go! Everybody, come on! C'mon let's go, move it along!

[Federal Agents knock down the door.]

Federal Agents: Freeze! Get in there! Federal Agents! Get 'em up in the air!

Peter: [Enters.] This is what the law calls an exigent circumstance. Any of you Harvard grads know what that is, huh? No hands? Diana?

Diana: Exigent circumstance allows us to pursue a suspect onto private property without obtaining a warrant.

Peter: And to seize any and all evidence that is discovered in plain view, regardless of the connection to the original crime.

[Picks up a bond and smiles at Hagan.]

Peter: Hey, remember me? Friend? [Passes the killer lawyer.] Hey, there's your lawyer.

[Neal opens the office door as Peter approaches. He's smoking a cigar.]

Peter: You know, you're really bad at this escape thing.

Neal: What can I say? Cigar?

Peter: Cuban?

Neal: Mm, you should arrest me.

Peter: I'll let the cigar go, but you are a fleeing suspect.

[Neal glances behind him. Peter follows his gaze to an open safe.]

Peter: Is that thee original Victory Bond?

Neal: Why, yes, yes it is.

[Peter laughs and sits up on the desk with Neal.]

Peter: You know this makes me 3 and 0?

Neal: Maybe I'm not trying hard enough.

--

[Cut to a blind-folded Elizabeth stumbling out a door ahead of Peter. She is, in the words of Eastin, 'grinning like a teenager'.]

Peter: Careful.

Elizabeth: All right. Oh.

Peter: All right.

Elizabeth: Honey.

Peter: Almost there.

Elizabeth: I think I'm getting sea sick.

Peter: A little farther.

Elizabeth: Okay.

Peter: All right, this is good. All right, now I want to keep your eyes closed.

[Takes off blind fold.]

Elizabeth: Oh, I promise.

Peter: All right.

[Crosses the rooftop Neal's leant him for the night and turns on some music.]

Peter: Okay, open them.

[She does. The rooftop has been decked out like a beach scene, complete with deck chairs, fake palm trees, an umbrella, and a surfboard. In the middle, there's a fire going. Strings of lights border the walls. Elizabeth looks confused.]

Peter: Honey, you know how every year, I'm always promising you that we're going to go-

Elizabeth: To the Caribbean.

Peter: This sort of what you wanted?

Elizabeth: Well, I think if I keep my eyes closed, [she closes her eyes] I can actually imagine us being there.

[Peter leads her to the fire.]

Elizabeth: Ooh, and it's getting warmer.

Peter: It is. Come here.

[He pulls her onto the deck chair with him and hands her a bottle.]

Elizabeth: Huh. Screw top.

Peter: Cheesy?

Elizabeth: It's a little cheesy, but it's sweet.

Peter: Maybe this will help. [Pulls out a pair of tickets.] Belize.

Elizabeth: What?

Peter: I found the time. We have a week. And two plane tickets and the seized villa in Sarteneja.

Elizabeth: In where?

Peter: Oh, this really incredible beach front villa that the bureau seized from the narco trafficker. It's amazing wh-

Elizabeth: Okay, okay it's enough with- just tell me it's nice.

Peter: It's nice.

Elizabeth: I love you.

Peter: I love you.

[They kiss, then lounge in the chair.]

Elizabeth: Thank you.

Peter: Thank you.

Elizabeth: Do you think we can pull the heater in little closer?

Peter: Yeah, it's cold.

--

[Cut to: Same deck, morning. Not a palm tree in sight. Neal leans on the wall, looking out over Manhattan. Peter enters.]

Peter: Can't beat that view.

Neal: Elizabeth like it?

Peter: She loved it.

Neal: Coffee?

Peter: Yeah. Italian roast?

[Neal gives Peter a look.]

Neal: Going on vacation.

Peter: Yeah! Yeah, we'll be back in a week.

Neal: Still wearing that suit.

Peter: Yeah, I love this suit.

Neal, suddenly serious: Did they make a decision?

Peter: [Pulls out an FBI badge.] Figured if we didn't, you'd end up making one of these on your own.

[Neal laughs and takes it.]

Neal: I'm official.

Peter: You're a consultant, and I own you for four years. You okay with that?

Neal: Yeah.

Peter: You'll be here when I get back?

Neal: Where else am I gonna go?

[Peter leaves. Neal picks up his newspaper. Inside are both parts of the Kate photo. He looks at them, and then glances up with a determined smile.]