Federal Building. Wednesday afternoon. July 7, 2004.

At 3pm Neal looked at his "plan" with dismay. It was half a page long, and didn't sound even vaguely like it would lead to Robert's capture.

The problem was that yesterday he'd promised Henry to keep the core elements of his plan a secret from the FBI for now. And he knew what Peter would say to that. He'd throw out the "full disclosure" promise again. Neal had made conflicting promises and was stuck in the middle.

The bullpen was quiet this afternoon. Several people were on summer vacations, and many others were in the field. Those sitting at their desks looked busy, unlikely to welcome an interruption, except...

Yeah, Travis Miller looked as morose as Neal felt. Travis was one of the quieter team members, and often got stuck with assignments in the van. Neal didn't know much about him, and hadn't kept track of what he was working on recently. What had he said in the briefing this morning? Something about going undercover tomorrow. That had to be more entertaining than Neal's failure to document a plan that had any chance of getting Peter's approval.

Neal walked over and sat on the corner of Travis' desk. "Hey, I should thank you for the help on Sunday. Hughes pointed out that you had to work on a holiday because of me. I didn't mean to cause anything like that. I owe you."

Travis leaned back in his chair. He wore the customary Brooks Brothers suit but always looked like he'd be more comfortable in jeans. In fact rumor had it he dressed down if he knew he'd spend all day in the van, bringing along a suit in case he was called back to the office. "It was interesting, actually." He rolled his eyes and gestured at the paperwork on his desk. "A lot more appealing than what I'm doing tomorrow."

"I thought you were going undercover tomorrow." Neal loved going undercover, and couldn't understand Travis' look of dread in response to his comment. "You want to trade assignments?"

"Honestly, yes, and I don't even know what you're working on. But I need to do this. I've been with the Bureau almost two years, and I keep getting the same feedback. They love my skills with electronics and with monitoring suspects, but I need to show 'career growth' by trying other things."

"Wait. Are you saying you've never gone undercover?"

"Not like this. I've provided a distraction or backup for another agent, but I've never been the main act." He checked his watch. "You got time for a cup of coffee? I could use advice from an expert. Everyone says you're a natural at undercover work."

"Bureau brew or something actual humans can consume?"

"What are your thoughts on the coffee shop across the street?" Travis stood up. "I'm buying."

Neal patted his back. "Welcome to the Neal Caffrey crash course on undercover work."

The heat wave had passed, and once they had their drinks, they decided to talk outside in the Federal Building Plaza. A water feature muffled their voices, so they didn't have to worry about being overheard.

"Let's start with the setting," Neal suggested. "Where will you be?"

"In the morning I'll go to Deloitte's Manhattan offices. I'll join a team of auditors there, who'll think I'm from their D.C. office, specializing in government contracts. We'll all get a briefing on one of their clients, an IT services company called Carlson-Berger. Then in the afternoon we take a flight to Atlanta. The client's offices are in Alpharetta, Georgia, and they'll put us up in a hotel nearby. The next day I spend in their offices with the auditors, collecting information, reviewing documentation and interviewing some of the client's employees if I have questions. The rest of the auditors will stay through the next week, but if I'm lucky I can get what I need and leave Friday night."

"Okay, we've got where and when. Let's cover who."

"Carlson-Berger."

"No, that's a company. I need people."

Travis shrugged. "I don't know their names yet."

"Yeah, but you know their job titles, right? Are you dealing with the CEO or the janitor, or something in between?"

"The CEO of Carlson-Berger approved it, but unfortunately the people he'd go to for the data we need are all suspects who could be tipped off if he makes a request for the information out of the blue. That's why I'm going in as an auditor. The people I'll deal with are mostly mid-level project managers, maybe a few technical people with the SQL chops to gather the data I need. And the other auditors. They won't know I'm FBI. For the Deloitte team, typically there's a senior member and several entry-level kids straight out of college using this as on-the-job training."

"Sounds like you're already familiar with this type of organization," Neal remarked. It was true, and it helped reinforce that Travis was in his comfort zone with nothing to worry about. Confidence was the root of "con" after all, and undercover work was a type of con in his opinion.

"Before I joined the Bureau I worked for one of the big cell phone manufacturers. I worked on a team that designed and tested new devices, and we worked hand-in-hand with the software teams. You get used to how IT works. Audits were always an annual thing, but they're getting more complex these days with SOX."

Neal glanced at Travis' feet and raised a brow.

"Not socks. SOX. The Sarbanes-Oxley Act. It's introduced a whole new level of audits. Even the auditors are still figuring out what's in scope. What I'm hearing from my old colleagues is that they'll ask for tons of data, in case it's relevant, and claim the company's execs could go to prison if any information they want is not provided."

"So that's good news. You can ask for info they're not used to providing, and they'll think it's your interpretation of SOX. And that gets us to the other side of the who question. Who will you be?"

"My cover name is Travis Lund." Travis paused as Neal raised a brow again. "You know, that eyebrow trick is impressive. I wish I had more to give you, but the name is it. It's me with another name."

"It's more than that. It's a you who didn't join the FBI. I'm assuming you were chosen for this because your experience at your last job was relevant?" Neal asked. When Travis nodded, Neal continued, "How did this version of you end up working as an auditor at Deloitte?"

"Well, I was on that design team, like I told you, and in the middle of a big project the project manager quit. I was known to be organized, good at keeping my work on schedule, able to get along well with project managers instead of treating them like dirt, as compared to some of the other team members. Long story short, they asked me to take the PM role for the rest of the project. Not my idea of fun work, but I did my best." He spread his hands in a what-can-I-say gesture. "Next thing I knew I was the PM for the next project. Instead of the company replacing the old project manager, I kept getting more of that work, and less of the design work that I loved. I ended up pigeon-holed. If I wanted to keep my technical skills up-to-date, I needed to move back into a design role but the company didn't want to give up a good PM, so I looked outside and found the FBI was looking for people with technical skills."

"That's the Travis Miller story. Where does Travis Lund veer off from that?"

"Well, he liked the PM work, I guess. A good project manager can make more money at the big-name consulting companies, so he would have talked to other PMs about who's hiring and moved into Deloitte."

Neal nodded. "That's more like it. Lund is used to being in charge, at least at the project level. He likes money, and he works for a big-name consulting firm. Ergo, he wears big-name designer suits. And his shirts are pressed."

"Umm." Travis looked at his rumpled suit in chagrin. "Is that really necessary?"

"Not always. A great actor can pull off a role without being dressed for the part." Neal shot Travis a glance. "But given your dismay at being assigned undercover work, I think we can say you are not a great actor. You need all the help you can get to pull off this assignment, and that means wardrobe is key. It helps form those crucial first impressions."

"I think I'm doomed."

"Maybe not. What's your size?"

Travis rattled off a familiar size. The same as Henry's. And Henry had always been willing to share. "You're in luck. That's the same as someone else I know, someone with expensive taste and the budget to indulge it. We might be able to borrow something of his." Neal tried calling Noelle but didn't get an answer. She was probably leading a class. He tried Irene's number with a little trepidation. Despite her assurances that she'd love to hear from him anytime, he'd never initiated a call to his grandmother.

"Neal, dear boy," she said with her hint of a Southern accent. "We were just talking about you. Edmund and I will be in New York on Saturday, with Noelle. Could you join us for lunch?"

"Absolutely. I'd love to. What's the occasion?"

"We're being briefed before going to Switzerland. There's a bit of a crisis in Eastern Europe these days, you know."

"Yeah, I'd heard a little about it. The Ambassador's going to fix it, huh?"

"Officially we're simply going on vacation in an area where talks are occurring, and need to be informed in case the press or other diplomats want to talk to us. But yes, we do hope Edmund can help. But that isn't why you called now, is it?"

"No. Actually I have a favor to ask." Neal paused. He'd been inside their house over the Christmas holidays, given a tour by Henry while their grandparents were away. He wasn't sure if Irene knew about that. "I happen to know that Henry keeps some suits there, so he can visit and join you for formal events without packing a lot of stuff. A friend of mine here has a temporary need for a higher quality wardrobe, and he's Henry size. Any chance you could overnight some of Henry's stuff? Two or three suits. Shirts and ties, too, if you can."

"I don't suppose this is actually for Henry?" Irene asked softly. "I'd so love to hear that you found him."

"No, it really is for an FBI agent. But I did talk to Henry yesterday, Dressa. Face-to-face. He's fine, and he's promised to stay in touch. He said he'd call Noelle."

"Oh, Neal. You truly are a miracle. That will make such a difference. Poor Noelle..." Irene sniffed. "I'll send those suits right now. I know a service that can get them to you by 6am."

Neal gave her the address of June's mansion, although he was fairly certain she had already gotten his address from Noelle.

With the call ended, he told Travis to show up at his loft in the morning for a fitting. Mozzie could act as a tailor, fortunately. The shirts should fit, but Travis was slightly taller than Henry. Neal glanced at his watch. "There's more we should cover to get you ready, but I'm supposed to talk to Peter soon. Can you tell me more about the assignment in the morning? My landlady serves a fantastic breakfast."

Travis agreed. However, when they returned to the bullpen it was Travis that Peter pulled into his office, for a final strategy session before going undercover. Peter stopped at Neal's desk at 5:30. "I'm trying to set a good example of not letting work eat into my personal life. Let's review your plans tomorrow morning," Peter suggested.

Neal breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps overnight he'd actually dream up a plan he could share with Peter.

###

The minute Mozzie learned that the tailor Neal needed was for an FBI agent, he declined to participate. "I don't do suits for Suits," he insisted. Instead he sent along a friend, someone with impeccable skills who had Travis measured in no time. The tailor stayed in Neal's loft to make the alterations, and Travis followed Neal downstairs for breakfast with June.

June enjoyed meeting Mr. Lund – Neal insisted on using the cover name throughout breakfast so it would start to feel natural to Travis – and she shared a few stories about learning to play a role for a con. Travis was smiling when Neal asked for more details about his assignment. "Yesterday you went through everything but why. What's the goal?"

Travis glanced uncertainly at June, who announced that she was going to bring more coffee. When she'd left the dining room Travis said, "You heard about the hacker who got access to the FBI and U.S. Marshals' email? We're pretty sure it's someone at Carlson-Berger. They host the email servers for both agencies. I'm supposed to get a list of everyone with access to both sets of servers. Names, roles, when they were granted access, when they last accessed data on those servers, and so on. Once I have that, Jones can cross-reference it with information he got from Winston-Winslow. He'll look for people who used to work at Winston-Winslow, or who went to Robert Winslow's alma mater, or who have any other viable connections."

Suddenly this assignment was much more interesting to Neal. "Does everyone at Carlson-Berger work in their Alpharetta office?"

"No. Most do, but they have a few satellite offices, and a few may telecommute."

"Find out where each of these people is located. The guy you're looking for –"

"You're sure it's a guy?" Travis interrupted.

"Probably. We got a glimpse of Robert's accomplice in Seattle. It's possible the person in Carlson-Berger is a girlfriend or someone else close to this accomplice, but it's unlikely. Robert wants to be in control, and he'd be nervous about an extended link to the hacker."

"So we're looking for someone who lives in Seattle or who traveled there in that timeframe," Travis noted.

"Right. And I think he was in New York on Tuesday."

"Fascinating. Too bad we don't have a photo. The company has thousands of employees, so the odds of running into him are low, but there's always a chance. If we could narrow down the list to a small group before I leave, I could try to seek out some of them."

June returned with a fresh pot of coffee and Neal excused himself to check on the tailor. He brought paper and good quality pencils down with him, followed by the tailor who had Travis try on the suits in another room while Neal sketched Ferrari's face. He looked up when Travis returned wearing one of the suits, with the others packed in his suitcase.

"My, what a difference a good suit can make," June said in approval. "You've been transformed, Mr. Lund."

"Thanks. I feel like I'm finally a Starfleet officer," Travis added. With a glance at Neal's bemused expression he added, "Like I earned my Starfleet rank, symbolized by the spiffy uniform. I hope I do you both justice for all your help. And... Who was it who sent the suits by express? I really should pay that person back for the delivery fee."

June smiled. "Your fairy godmother was a celebrity – none other than the renowned Irene Randolph. But perhaps you're too young to have heard of her?"

Travis scoffed. "Are you kidding? Did you know that she almost played the role of Spock's mother in Star Trek? At the last minute her daughters got sick and she had to return home before filming could start. Rumor has it that she's the one who convinced Jane Wyman to step into the part." He paused as his brain caught up with his mouth. "Hold on. Why did a celebrated actress have suits in my size? How would you know that? Or even know how to contact her? And she sent them express just because you called?"

"She's my grandmother. The suits belong to my cousin."

Travis sat down again, elbows on the dining room table and leaned forward eagerly. "No way. Your grandmother is Irene Randolph?"

"It's Irene Caffrey now. Randolph was her maiden name, but she kept using it whenever she was acting. Yeah. She's the one who sent my cousin's suits." Neal handed him the drawing of Ferrari. "Here's what I think your guy looks like. It's a rough sketch. The traffic cams that caught his image in Seattle were grainy, but it's a start. Average height, dark hair, early thirties."

"Thanks." Travis glanced at the sketch but seemed preoccupied.

Neal was concerned. Maybe they shouldn't have mentioned his celebrity grandmother. She was nice enough, but even Neal felt his new-found family was overwhelming at times. He hadn't meant to overawe Travis going into this assignment. He needed to restore his confidence. "So, umm, you're a Star Trek fan?"

"Fan. Obsessed. Whatever you want to call it. The character Spock was an inspiration to me growing up. His ability to stay calm and think his way through any situation was an ideal I aspired to. He isn't the loudest character, or the funniest, and he didn't seek fame. And yet he made a major contribution. His knowledge and skills were often the key to solving the issues presented in the show. The crew wasn't the same without him."

"Any chance Travis Lund could be based on Spock? You know, like in a landing party? They were supposed to observe and not intervene, kind of like your role as an auditor."

Travis sat up straighter. "The Prime Directive. Yes, I could do that. Spock joined many away team missions. It would be an honor to base my Travis Lund character on him. I can be a supremely logical auditor. You know, Spock wore a spiffy suit in the episode 'Piece of the Action.'"

Reassured that Travis was ready for his undercover acting debut, Neal walked him out to his car and wished him luck. And he'd had a stroke of luck of his own. The information Travis had shared gave Neal some ideas for how to manipulate Robert. He'd known that Ferrari could be a key to feeding information they wanted Robert to have, but now the details were settling into place.

He was walking back toward the mansion when a man stepped into his path. "Danny Brooks?" he asked.

The man was older, probably the age of Neal's mother. He moved with authority, but had an expression of concern. His face seemed familiar. Neal had seen this man a few times as a child, always briefly. "Danny died in St. Louis on his eighteenth birthday."

The man nodded in approval. "Then you must be Neal Caffrey."

"And you used to be a U.S. Marshal."

"Mike Chan. I have a message from a friend. She thinks you're in danger."

Neal wanted to trust him. That was his instinct. He remembered that Ellen had trusted him, but that had been years ago. "Does Annina Brandel know you're here?"

"Yes. But call her to confirm. Don't invite me in until you're sure it's safe."

Neal pulled out his cell phone and called Annina. "Marshal Brandel, it's Neal Caffrey. Sorry. I keep calling at odd hours. I've got a Mike Chan here."

"That is one determined man. I told him to wait until this afternoon to give me a chance to contact you first, but he said he'd talk to you sooner if he saw an opening. He got in touch with me late yesterday afternoon and I spent most of the evening confirming his story while avoiding email. I think he's on the level. He stayed in St. Louis after leaving the marshals, working in a security business – the same one that employed Ellen Parker, in fact. I checked with my counterpart in St. Louis. You mentioned him: Simon Preston. He says Mike has been dating Ellen since leaving the marshals, so he's been on our radar. Everything checks out."

"Thanks," said Neal. He ended the call and said to Mike, "Let's get you some coffee."

They were barely inside the mansion when his cell phone rang. He wasn't surprised to hear Graham Winslow's voice. The Bureau had stopped tracking him, but Graham and Julia were still keeping watch and sending updates to Henry. "You've been talking to the marshals," he said. "Should I send help?"

"Not yet, but I'm still gathering information. Can you call me back, say in an hour?" When Graham agreed, Neal hung up and shrugged in Mike's direction. "You're causing a bit of a commotion. One more call to make, and then we can talk."

Peter answered in a rush. "Neal, are you okay?"

"Yeah. No big deal, but the marshals have sent someone over. He used to be assigned to my family in St. Louis, and he says he has some news. I'm not sure how long this will take, but I'll probably miss the morning briefing."

"You need any help? I could send Jones over."

"No. I'm fine."

Neal could hear the ding of the elevator. Peter must have arrived at the twenty-first floor. "One of these days we're going to set up a panic phrase so I can be certain you actually mean that."

"We're just going to talk, Peter. What could go wrong?"

"Yep, that's it. That's the phrase that makes me panic."

A/N: I'm still mining Casablanca for character names. Carlson comes from Carl, and Berger and Lund are also from the movie.

I picked Deloitte as a massive, well-known company in IT services and auditing; selecting them is not meant to be a commentary on them or their business practices.

Many thanks to Silbrith for her Star Trek expertise and memory of specific episodes. She was a tremendous help for the scenes with Travis.