Notes: Echoes of a Violin takes place after the events in Raphael's Dragon. Although this story is part of the Caffrey Conversation series, it can stand on its own.

In the pre-series Caffrey Conversation AU created by Penna Nomen, Peter recruited Neal in 2003 when he was 24. In exchange for a confession, he was given immunity for past crimes and started working for the FBI as a consultant. In the fall of 2004 he entered Columbia University's graduate program in art as a part-time student. In the spring of 2005 Peter and Neal were appointed to the Interpol art crimes task force. The work on the new task force is part time and places additional emphasis on art crimes for the White Collar team. Readers new to this AU may wish to refer to the notes at the end of this chapter for additional background information.

Chapter 1: Riverside Speakeasy

New York City. Thursday, May 19, 2005

"To Paris!" Mozzie clinked glasses with Neal. "In eleven days we'll be drinking champagne on the Champs-Élysées."

Neal gazed out at the bustling Manhattan street scene just beyond the sidewalk cafe where they were having lunch. Soon it would be replaced by the sights and soundsof Paris. He smiled as he returned the toast. "Our first time to work in the City of Lights together. When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. I will have finished the job with Gordon Taylor by the time you arrive on the thirtieth. It's quite a coup to have your trip to London financed by Interpol."

"Our new Interpol boss, John Hobhouse, couldn't have picked a better time for the initial meeting of the art crimes task force. Peter and I fly to London next Monday. The cost of traveling to Paris afterward is negligible."

"Peter, of course, believes you're going to Paris for a romantic vacation with your girlfriend Fiona."

"And he's correct," Neal insisted. "Retrieving the Braque painting is simply an extracurricular activity."

"Right." Mozzie viewed him appraisingly. "I assume White Collar continues to believe that Adler's interested in the painting because it contains a clue to a missing hoard of art plundered by the Nazis?"

Neal nodded. He took another bite of his chicken Caesar salad. By now his pangs of conscience at not telling Peter what he knew had been buried so deep, they barely caused a ripple.

Back in February when Neal had been alerted that an extravagant sum of money was being offered for the Violin and Candlestick, the correct course hadn't been so clear. At first he told himself that Peter might have understood the circumstances. Neal and Klaus Mansfeld had stolen it years ago. At the time Neal thought it was a copy and only later discovered it was an original masterpiece.

But that was all water under the bridge.

Peter had as much as told him that any unreported thefts Neal had committed abroad before joining White Collar needed to stay buried, particularly since he was now a member of the Interpol art crimes task force. But how could Neal ignore a painting which was so desired by Adler? That painting could contain the key to recover many of the most famous missing masterpieces from World War II, perhaps even Raphael's Portrait of a Young Man.

No, this was the only option that made sense. If the painting were still where they'd left it, Neal would retrieve it, solve the mystery, and then slip the painting in with the other masterpieces to once again be admired by the world.

Mozzie brushed the ciabatta crumbs off his lap. "Peter knows that you intend to research the paintings on the shipping manifest while you're in Paris, right?"

"Correct. He just doesn't know you'll be helping me. Not that it would necessarily be a problem, but . . ." Neal shrugged.

"Discretion will be our motto," Mozzie supplied, nodding with approval. "How about your cousin Henry? Will he also be in Paris?"

"Possibly. He's going to Germany to look into the background of Adler's father, Wilhelm. He immigrated to the States shortly after World War II, but we don't know what he did during the war. Henry's working with Jones on the project."

"Has Jones persuaded Henry that Adler believes there's a missing U-boat somewhere on the ocean floor filled with Nazi-looted art?"

"That seems the most likely, not just to Henry but to the rest of the team as well. Wilhelm Adler worked in the submarine construction industry in the States. His son is suspected of owning a marine salvage company, so it's a logical theory." Neal glanced at his watch. "It's time for me to head back. Are you coming early tonight?"

He nodded. "I should arrive around five. I promised June I'd help with the transformation. I shall act as co-host for the evening."

"I'm glad classes are over so I can join you. This is one event I wouldn't want to miss."

"It will be a night to remember. Did Diana invite the wetsuit?"

"She did, and don't forget your promise. No more wetsuit comments. After all his work on the Lovecraft blog, surely he's earned it."

He sniffed. "Your point is not without merit, and Diana made a provocative overture on his behalf. A détente could be in order, as long as he doesn't break the truce." Mozzie nodded to the waiter for the check. Neal reached into his wallet for his credit card, but Mozzie dismissed his offer to pay with a wave of his hand. "I'll put this on my tab for Gordon. I'll call it a recruitment effort on his behalf."

Neal snorted. "I've left my old ways behind. You know I'm not in the market for a new job."

"What once was old may once again seem new," Mozzie noted with a shrug. "Gordon asks about you every time I work for him. Keep your options open, mon frère. You never know when the wind will change and you'll need to adjust your sails."

Neal didn't wish to argue with him but he was perfectly content with the direction he was heading.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Neal was still smiling when he returned to the office. No more coursework at Columbia till September. He'd have his evenings free for the next three months. For the moment he refused to contemplate what his schedule would be like in the fall when he'd no longer be simply pursuing a dual master's—as if that were simple—but instead would be a PhD candidate. No, he'd much rather focus on celebrating the end of the school year by returning to Europe. His first time since he'd started working for the FBI.

"You're in a good mood," Diana commented, looking up from her computer as he tossed his fedora onto the bust of Socrates. "Is it because of London or Paris?"

"You know the answer to that. What can I bring you back? Perfume, a scarf?"

"Give me a day. I'll start my list." She paused and, scanning the room, beckoned him closer. "Did you talk with Mozzie?" she asked in a low voice.

"I did and he's on board." Neal said, amused at her stealth maneuver. She must have been looking for Jones.

"No wetsuit comments, I hope."

"You have no reason to be concerned, especially in view of what you offered in exchange."

She broke into a relieved smile. "Good. I need to redeem myself. Jones is still upset about the donut scene I wrote in The Locked Room. I told him I'd make it up to him."

In the latest Arkham Files story, Jones had attributed seeing monsters to having inadvertently ingested LSD-laced donuts. His White Collar counterpart had not been amused by what Neal thought was, objectively speaking, one of the highlights of the story. Jones's girlfriend Helen had not helped the situation when she gave him a donut maker for his birthday.

Diana turned to check the elevator bank. "Jones has been reminding me that he'll be overseeing the team while you and Peter are in Europe. There have been vague references to file duty, extended van shifts . . ."

"You can count on me," Neal assured her.

"Neal, you got a minute?"

He turned around to see Peter standing on the balcony, giving him the double finger-point. Neal jogged up the stairs. "How may I assist?"

Peter smiled. "What makes you think I need help? Maybe I'm going to assist you."

They went into his office, and Peter waved him to a seat. "How so?" Neal asked curiously.

"Would you like to steal a painting?"

Neal deliberately narrowed his eyes. "Is this a trick question?"

"I heard from John Hobhouse," Peter explained with a chuckle. "He'd like us to make an additional presentation at the meeting."

"I thought our time would be filled up with discussions on the cybercriminal Azathoth and the countermeasures we've employed."

"No longer. He also wants us to talk about a hypothetical situation where an art thief cases out a museum. What weaknesses he looks for, how he selects his target, how he'd formulate his plan. Hobhouse seems to think we have particular expertise in the area." Peter stroked his chin. "I wonder which one of us should take the lead on that."

"I could share a pointer or two."

"John recognizes this is last minute. Will you have enough time?"

"To take Interpol into the mind of a thief? It's too intriguing to pass up." Neal paused. This presented the perfect excuse to work out an exchange. "But you're right, I'll have to work on this over the weekend. Long hours. Probably burn the midnight oil. I know you'll want to express your appreciation."

"What do you have in mind?" Peter asked warily.

"That you let me switch our reservations to another hotel."

"Why do we want to do that? We're booked in a perfectly adequate hotel."

Neal frowned disapprovingly. "It's El's first trip to London. Surely you want to give her something more memorable than the traveling salesman's special Hobhouse had mentioned? In any case, he didn't say we had to stay there. He simply mentioned it was close."

"El arrives on Friday. We could wait till then to switch."

"If I can obtain better lodgings at the same price, will you agree to move?"

"It has to be as convenient," he warned.

"Guaranteed. And then when I take off for France and leave you two lovebirds to enjoy London over the Memorial Day Weekend, I won't have to feel guilty about you staying in a fleabag relic."

Peter scratched the side of his neck, looking distinctly uncomfortable. "About France . . ."

"Oh no," Neal said, making the X-sign with his hands. "Don't say 'about France.' I made the request long ago. Fiona and I've already made our plans. You said I could have the week off."

"But you may think this is even better," he interjected hurriedly. "Wouldn't you like to save some of your vacation days? You don't get that many. It will be almost like a vacation and you'll have additional time to spend later."

Neal eyed him suspiciously. "What are you proposing?"

"It's not me. It's John. The French member of the task force, Marcel Jauffret, asked if we'd be available to take our dog and pony show to Paris. He's held preliminary talks to obtain approval for the measures we've enacted, but he's encountered resistance. It's the usual problem of tight budgets. An additional complication is that Azathoth hasn't struck a French museum yet. It's only a matter of time till he does, but the powers that be feel no sense of urgency."

"They'd rather wait till Azathoth strikes the Louvre?" asked Neal incredulously.

"The French aren't alone in this. John hopes the presentations we make will give the other task force members the tools to win approval for implementing our recommendations in their regions. Marcel's asked for us to allocate two days. El and I would stay in London over the Memorial weekend as we'd originally planned. When she flies home on Monday afternoon, I'd fly to Paris. We'd have a few meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday. You'd still have your evenings free. I'd fly back Thursday morning and you'd have the rest of the week to yourselves. You'd mentioned Fiona will be working during the day . . ." Peter's words trailed off but he pulled out his final trick. He adopted a soulful look which was a dead ringer for Satchmo's mournful gaze. How could Neal say no to Satchmo?

"Peter, I'm surprised—no, that's not right—shocked and appalled you'd go along with this."

"That's a little harsh," Peter protested, looking flustered.

Neal fixed him with a stern glare for a few seconds. "Do you actually plan to put El on the plane to return to New York while you head on to Paris? I hope you haven't informed her yet. I may have just saved your marriage."

Peter broke into a relieved smile. "You don't mind, then?"

"Of course not. But you can't give me any arguments about the hotel. I only stay in one place in Paris. It's a tradition going back for years. Trust me, El will love it."

"But aren't you and Fiona . . .?" He reddened, and tried again. "I thought you'd be staying with Fiona in her apartment."

"And I will, but we decided to treat the first few days as a vacation for both of us. I already have reservations made."

"You won't mind us being in the same hotel?"

"Not at all. I'll make sure the rooms are far apart, so we won't overhear anything."

"Neal!"

"Peter! It's Paris."

"But will my bank account be able to afford it?"

"Need I remind you this is a business expense? Aren't the French picking up the tab?"

Peter shrugged. "Them or Interpol, but it will only be within established amounts."

"You'll be able to afford it. And when you consider you'll have my expert guide services tossed in for free, it's the ultimate bargain."

"I'll call El after our talk."

"Good idea. She may need to buy larger suitcases for all the shopping she'll want to do."

"Another benefit of this is that we'll be able to discuss the Adler case with Marcel."

Neal nodded. "Henry's coming by at three to meet with Jones and me about it. Do you want to join us?"

"What's on your agenda?"

"What else? Nazis and art."

"You know, sometimes I feel like we're in an Indiana Jones movie rather than working at the FBI."

"And that's a complaint?"

He smiled. "No, I don't think it is." As Neal rose to leave, Peter asked, "Six o'clock tonight, right?"

"That's what Diana requested. She wants ample time."

"That shouldn't be a problem. I took the train this morning. El will drive in. Tricia's riding with us. Can we give you a lift?"

"Thanks but I'm taking off early to help June prepare."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Peter smiled as he watched Neal jog down the stairs. The scamp. Making him stew over Paris. Plainly, Neal was already in school's-out-for-summer mode. What would it be like being in London with him? Would he be so buzzed, he'd float off in space? Hobhouse's request for Neal to think like an art thief would only serve to add more helium for his liftoff. Peter made a mental note to verify his presentation wasn't too flighty.

Peter had planned to ask El, but Neal was enjoying teasing him so much, he didn't mention it. When he called her about it, she joined Neal floating in space. The three of them in Paris. Peter was feeling a little of that liftoff as well.

Picking up a notepad, he headed for a meeting with Hughes. Reese looked all business as Peter took a seat opposite him. The levity of the past few minutes vanished at the door.

"I've been on the phone with the assistant director this morning," he said. "Why is it that at a time when I'm older than many of my colleagues, I feel like they're the ones who are the dinosaurs?" He grunted as he glanced down at a sheet of paper in front of him, making Peter uneasy for what was to come. "I was called on the carpet like I was a junior employee Caffrey's age."

"Was it our budget request? Do you want me to rework it?"

"That wasn't the topic this morning, although there have also been issues with it. The review committee has questioned the equipment requests, particularly the ones for authentication equipment Caffrey slipped in."

"They were all justified," Peter noted. "I'd worked with him to keep the requests to a minimum, and all the equipment can be used for other purposes."

"I'm aware of that. With you and Caffrey serving on the Interpol art crimes task force, I was curious to see how the Bureau would treat the requests. Apparently not that much has changed. Kramer insists on reviewing any expenditures related to art crimes and as you know he has powerful friends in D.C. His argument is that since you'll be working part time on the task force, your team will have even less time to work on art crimes in the States. Kramer's demanding his own department be expanded at our expense."

"So our successes of the past year don't count for much?"

"Apparently not. Kramer notes that most of them were made before your Interpol appointment. It's a clever tactic. He praises your record while claiming, in effect, the world needs you. His unit should assist your valuable work by handling the U.S. end of art crimes."

Peter groaned. His former mentor had increasingly become a problem over the past year. Peter had avoided mentioning Kramer's obstreperousness to Neal, but he was too astute not to know the source of the roadblocks. It was impossible to know how much of Kramer's attitude was because of Neal. Before his recruitment, White Collar had not worked on as high a percentage of art crimes. Many of the cases last year had been brought to the FBI's attention through Neal's connections. But Kramer made no secret of his concern that Neal would revert to his former life. It was as if he wanted to force Neal to explore other career paths.

"But the budget's not the reason I called you in." Hughes hesitated and scowled.

What was worse than the budget? Peter waited uneasily to hear what had his boss so concerned.

"The Finance Division is raising flags about our use of Aidan Phillips for the anti-malware program. They filed a protest, claiming we violated standard procurement procedures."

Peter couldn't believe what he was hearing. "We'd already obtained clearance to bypass the normal workflow. Why are they making it an issue out of it now?"

"Lord knows. When I submitted the request to use Phillips's company, the assistant director had given it his approval. By using the company of Caffrey's friend, a small group of developers, we were able to maintain a low profile and increase the odds of staying off Azathoth's radar. Now some paper-pushers are bent out of shape because of the secrecy with which it was done. They're not privy to the details because of the confidentiality and they're raising a stink about it."

"Do they question the speed with which the review process was conducted?"

"That and our not seeking competitive bids. We knew we weren't following the standard procurement protocol, and it's biting us now."

"It was thanks to Aidan's software we were able to thwart a heist at the Met."

"I know that. The problem is they don't. If we didn't suspect an informant within the organization, this wouldn't have been a problem. But we're faced with the reality that someone within the FBI is in league with the criminal organization Ydrus and probably Azathoth as well. Because of that, we kept the nature of Aidan's project secret. And that's not the only issue we're confronting. The assistant director's received complaints about our use of Winston-Winslow." Hughes crossed his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "And before you blow up on me, let me add I'm as unhappy about this as you are."

"For years the Bureau's attempted to develop better relations with Win-Win, widely acknowledging them to be the best private investigative firm in the States and even admitting their superiority in certain areas." Peter could taste the bitterness in his voice. "Now, thanks to Neal's cousin Henry, we've built a robust partnership. And they're upset?"

Hughes raised a cautionary hand. "Henry's role is at the heart of the issue. They claim it verges on nepotism." He lowered his voice. "They accused you of being biased."

"Because of my family connections?"

He nodded. "When your brother married Henry's mother, it complicated matters. Henry's in line to be the next CEO of Win-Win. The Bureau knows that. The assistant director has heard whispers that your allegiance may be wavering."

"Where are these so-called whispers coming from?"

"He's attempting to track down the source." Hughes's jaw worked for a moment before he continued. "Step back for a moment. Consider how a bureaucrat in D.C. who doesn't know all the details might view it. You're an outstanding team leader with an excellent track record. You match the profile of someone who would be highly sought after by Winston-Winslow. Their former CEO, Graham Winslow, is famous for his aggressive recruitment tactics. When he was running the company, he managed to steal away some of the Bureau's best employees. You could make far more money with Win-Win than you could with us. You're young, highly motivated. You must be ambitious."

"I also have no intention of leaving the FBI. You know that."

"I know that, but not everyone else does." Hughes sat back in his chair. "Look, I'll deal with the current issues and get them ironed out. Our partnerships are fully justified, but what I've learned reveals that we have enemies within the Bureau. You need to be careful to conduct yourself strictly according to established protocols." He paused and took a breath. "And that is particularly true for your consultant."

"I recognize that some at the Bureau have been opposed to Neal from the beginning, and even with all the successes we've had over the past year and a half, there's still opposition."

"We've discussed this before, and I repeat the need to be cognizant. It's because of my high regard for both you and Caffrey that I'm being so frank."

Hughes was giving him a lot to chew on. But as to how Peter was going to rein in his exuberant consultant who was already giddy at the thought of being in London and Paris for the next two weeks, he didn't have any helpful suggestions. Peter decided to table that difficult discussion till the next day. He didn't want to cast a shadow on the party.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

If we're in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie, it's obvious who should play Indy. After all, who wears a fedora to the office?

But as Neal glanced around the conference room table at Peter, Jones and Henry, he knew he wouldn't go unchallenged. Peter would growl over relinquishing the leadership role. And Jones? Base case, he had an unfair name advantage. He was probably already shopping for a bullwhip.

Jones was the one who first devised the U-boat theory. Ever since he found out that Adler's father had worked on U-boats during World War II and Adler was suspected of owning a marine salvage company through a shell corporation, he'd pushed the idea of a sunken sub filled with Nazi plunder. Since Jones was a gaming enthusiast, Neal had accused him on more than one occasion of letting his video game fantasies leak into his work. His claim was bolstered last month when Jones became addicted to Silent Hunter III, a U-boat strategy game.

But Jones now had rock-solid evidence to strengthen his case. Two months ago, Neal had discovered tantalizing documents in the safe of Karl Huber, a suspected member of Ydrus. He'd photographed the journal of Huber's father who was with the SS during World War II as well as a fragment of a shipping manifest. On the list were the names of some of the most valuable unrecovered paintings which had been plundered by the Nazis.

Vying with Peter, Jones, and Neal for the role of Indy would be Henry. Neal could outcon Jones, but Henry was sneaky. His cousin would stake a claim to star billing even if it meant a name change to do it.

Henry was working with them on the case since he was in charge of Win-Win's investigation into Vincent Adler. Henry's company had secured financial backing for a full-scale investigation from wealthy investors who had been bilked by Adler's Ponzi scheme.

"What we still don't know is if there's any connection between Adler and Huber," Jones said. "We've combed through the journal and the data files on Huber's computer. There's no mention of Adler, either the father or the son. The only link we're sure of is that both Vincent Adler's father and Huber's father were German soldiers during World War II."

"What's the status of Huber?" Henry asked. "Has anything surfaced on him?"

Jones shook his head. "Not since he slipped off the grid in Greece. Interpol's still searching for him. His family's missing as well. We assume Ydrus provided them with new identities. His shipping company's currently managed by a new CEO who was appointed last month. There's been no more evidence of weapons smuggling since Huber's disappearance. The company itself appears to be clean. All the instances of smuggling were done by local operators who had been contracted by the company."

"We're continuing to monitor the Buenos Aires airport for any matches with Adler, Fowler, and Huber, but nothing's popped up," Henry added.

"How many airports have signed up for the beta of your facial recognition software?" Peter asked.

"Outside of Buenos Aires we're also in the international airports in Santiago, Quito, Mexico City, and Paris. We hope to soon add London to the list."

"I expect once Peter and I've made our presentations in London and Paris, you'll also have more of the museums signing up for your package," Neal said. "Have you decided if you'll stop by Paris?"

"It depends on how quickly I can wrap things up in Germany. I'd like to. There are vast archives of World War II records that exist only on paper. I'll be working at the Deutsche Dienststelle in Berlin for the bulk of the time." He stopped. "I saw that grin, Neal. I want you to know I've been making myself say that ten times a day in preparation. The Deutsche Dienststelle is the depository for war records on both German and non-German war personnel. Win-Win has a partnership with a German investigative firm who will work with me on it."

"Couldn't you have handled the request electronically?" Peter asked.

"I already tried. The files weren't found so we need to dig deeper. While there I'm also scheduled to speak with the German authorities about using our software in their airports."

"Travis and I've been researching that sheet of equations which was found in the journal," Jones said. "We've been in contact with the U-boat Archive in Cuxhaven." Travis Miller was White Collar's tech expert. He'd considered those equations to be a personal challenge. After he'd identified them to be fractal formulas, speculation had centered around the formulas being somehow connected to a fractal antenna. "So far we've uncovered nothing about the use of fractal antennas on U-boats," Jones added glumly.

"Is that the thud of a cherished theory I hear?" Neal asked.

"Maybe the warning sirens," Jones admitted. "Any use would have been experimental in nature." He droned on about fractal antennas and their applications, but it was above Neal's paygrade to understand and Henry's too, judging by his glassy-eyed expression.

At the end of the meeting, Jones grabbed Neal on his way out. "Mozzie didn't pull a switch at the last minute, did he?"

"Of course not. Don't you trust him at all? On second thought, forget I asked. In any case why are you worried? El, Tricia, and Peter haven't prepared either."

"Are you sure?" Jones glanced over at Peter who was sorting through his papers and narrowed his eyes. "They could be lulling me into a false sense of security."

"What are you two conspiring about?" Henry asked.

"Dark things are afoot tonight in Gotham," Jones warned in sepulchral tones.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Peter pulled up in front of June's mansion. Had Neal kept cars away? That there was a parking space right in front was suspiciously convenient. They were probably the last ones to arrive. Tricia had been held up by a late phone call. White Collar kept her so busy with Azathoth and Adler, Peter sometimes had to remind himself she didn't work exclusively on their cases. Her skills as a profiler were in demand by all the crime units.

The Arkham Round Table, composed of Diana, June, Tricia, El, and Mozzie, had been formed to strategize plots for Diana's Lovecraft fan fiction with the goal of influencing Azathoth's behavior. The cybercriminal excelled in psychological warfare and they were responding in kind.

After the death of a Czech detective last winter, no one underestimated the seriousness of the threat. Over the past month Azathoth's taunts against Neal and Peter had become more frequent. Everyone was uneasy that he was preparing to launch a new attack. Peter hoped the party would allow everyone to take a breather.

Both Tricia and El had dressed in styles reminiscent of the 1970s— wide bellbottoms and tight sweaters. El wore large hoop earrings. Peter had retained his same suit, but Neal would tell him it hadn't changed much from the 1970s either. He'd dug in his closet for a wide paisley tie to wear. It had been a gift from El's mom shortly after their wedding. Peter had taken one look at the garish monstrosity and decided Tina was using it to test the depth of his love for her daughter. He'd proved it by wearing it out to dinner that same night. That was the only time it had been worn . . . until tonight.

"This was a wonderful idea," El said as they walked up the stairs. "June didn't mention a word about it in our meetings. I only learned about the party when we received the invitation."

"Neal told me that she and Mozzie concocted it over a game of Candy Land," Peter said. "The hardest part was finding an evening everyone was free. Mozzie for some reason wasn't available on any of the weekend nights. Neal was vague as to why and I don't think I want to know."

He rang the doorbell. After a moment it opened a crack. "Password?" a low gravelly voice muttered. Was that Neal? No one had mentioned anything about a password to Peter.

El pushed him aside and whispered, "Zoog."

Neal opened the door wide and let them in. "Welcome to the Arkham Speakeasy."

Neal had brushed his hair forward. It had the effect of making him look as young as the twenty-two year old Neal Carter of the Arkham Files. He wasn't wearing bellbottoms but had a dark button-down shirt on.

"Have the others already arrived?" Tricia asked.

He nodded. "Diana, Travis, and Jones came together. Now that you're here, the festivities can begin." As they walked into the living room, Peter heard the strains of Crosby, Stills and Nash coming over the speaker system.

The living room had been transformed. From somewhere—no doubt one of Mozzie's hidden storage containers—June had found a treasure trove of lava lamps. The blobs of wax looked eerily appropriate for the creepy events in Arkham Files. The documentation paintings Neal had made of the night Azathoth kidnapped them in October were displayed on easels throughout the room.

Peter and Neal headed for the bar to get drinks. It had been decorated with wooden crates stenciled with "Arkham Ale," "Innesmouth Cabernet," and "Sharkey's Spirits." Jones, Travis, and Mozzie were sitting at a card table in the living room working on their laptops. Peter nodded in their direction. "I see détente has been achieved."

"They're playing Silent Hunter III. That's the U-boat game Jones is so obsessed with and now Mozzie as well. Diana and Travis acted as peacemakers in the negotiations and brokered a multiplayer game on a trial basis. As a peace offering, Jones provided Mozzie with the cheat codes to unlock the game's Easter eggs. Mozzie reciprocated by agreeing to no longer call Jones a wetsuit."

"Does Jones have a new nickname?"

"Mozzie wanted to call him Doughboy," Neal said in an undertone, "but I talked him out of it."

Peter reduced his laughter to a snort. "Is June still planning to serve donuts?"

Neal shook his head with a grin. "She was ready to, but Diana pleaded for a substitution. She's in enough hot water with Jones as it is."

While they were talking, Peter heard Diana ordering Mozzie to put away his laptop. It was astonishing to see how readily Mozzie listened to her. Of all the successes of the Arkham Round Table, a truce between those two had to be among the most remarkable. Would Jones also succeed in acquiring that easy familiarity? Although Peter was a firm believer in second chances, he'd categorized Mozzie as one of those incorrigible con men who could never give up the life. Perhaps there was hope, after all.

"Gather around, everyone," June said. "Make sure you have a glass of champagne." Neal acted as bartender and took drinks around.

June raised her glass. "We're here to celebrate the completion of Diana's second story, The Locked Room. She posted the final chapter this morning."

"At an ungodly hour while the rest of you were still asleep," Diana added. "I couldn't have managed without all your help on the Arkham Round Table, so here's to you." As everyone responded with cheers and toasts of their own, she retrieved a gift box from the bookcase behind her. "For those of you who don't attend the Round Table sessions, last week we cast a secret ballot to choose the most creative suggestion for The Locked Room. And the winner is . . ."

During the dramatic pause, June passed her a sealed envelope. Diana ripped it open and read from the card inside: "Tricia Wiese for having Sara confuse starlings with stardust in the lyrics of the Crosby, Stills, and Nash song 'Woodstock'!" She put down the card to join in the thunderous applause. "Step up to get your prize, Tricia!"

Tricia was much more of a ham than Peter had dreamed possible. Was this a secret side to Tricia? She hugged the package as she gushed, "I'd like to thank the Academy, my colleagues, and of course, my long-suffering family—"

"—Just open the box!" Mozzie shouted.

She tore open the giftwrap to reveal a framed photo of a starling.

"She's being very noble to act so thrilled," El murmured. "She told me starlings are considered a nuisance bird."

"She'll treasure it for the symbolism, " Peter muttered back. "And those white dots on the bird do rather look like stars, or stardust." So far not too many members of the team had called Neal or him Starman, but it was only a matter of time.

"The misquoted lyrics were so popular with the fans, we decided to include them in more stories," Diana announced. "Tomorrow I'll add a whiteboard to the breakroom for suggestions for more muddled music. All suggestions are welcome. Just think, next time one of you may win the coveted prize."

While she was talking, Mozzie had strolled to the wet bar. Retrieving another package—this one much larger—he presented it with a flourish to Diana, adding that it was from all of them. El had told Peter about the gift, and this was one item Peter wished someone would give him.

The large box had been wrapped in sea life paper with an origami starfish on top. That must have been Neal's contribution. Diana, grinning with delight, started to open it then paused. Casting a suspicious look at Mozzie, she said, "There better not be a zoog inside."

"The Round Table members voted on it jointly," June advised. "I don't know if you find that reassuring."

"Not necessarily," she admitted. When Diana squealed with pleasure at the brass armillary sphere inside, Peter knew they'd chosen well. "Next time I'm stuck, I'll gaze into the center of the sphere to have my plot revealed," she said. "This should belong to all of us. I couldn't have written the stories without your help."

"And we have another announcement," Mozzie said. "Tonight we welcome into our fellowship a new member, Clinton Jones. I've taken him on as my apprentice since he's agreed to acknowledge my preeminence in all matters."

Peter was stunned as Jones not only appeared to accept his new status but was happy about it. Peter nudged Neal. "What gives?"

"Mozzie has agreed to tutor him in strategic planning via board games. He told me Jones displays promising potential. Remember how Jones used Battleship to plan our Lynx Mountain op in January? Mozzie gave him advance credit for that."

"What is Mozzie getting out of it?"

"Jones is rapidly becoming an expert on U-boats. Mozzie plans to draw on his knowledge. He figures his Navy background could also be useful."

"In honor of Diana having completed two stories and to welcome our newest member into the Round Table," June said, "Chef Emil has prepared an Arkham Files feast with some of the characters' favorite foods: meatloaf, lasagna, and halibut. For dessert we have Bourbon pecan pie, brownies, and a special dessert in honor of our two heroes: chocolate nightgaunt cake."

"Henry should be here," El said, sighing at the mention of the desserts. Neal's cousin was famous for his addiction to chocolate.

"Already taken care of," Neal assured her. "Emil is setting a box aside. I'll deliver it on the way to work."

"You've been very mysterious about the game we're playing," Tricia said. "Isn't it time to tell us?

June gestured to Mozzie. "Would you like to have the honor?"

"It will be my pleasure," he said with a nod of the head. "As most of you know, June and I are aficionados of board games. This year a new game came out. It must have been psychically inspired, or perhaps it was Azathoth working his machinations behind the scenes. The name of the game is Arkham Horror."

"It's set in the speakeasies of the Roaring Twenties," June continued. "A dark shadow looms over the city of Arkham. Peter, you'll be pleased to hear that the play is co-op. No lone wolves are allowed."

Mozzie clapped his hands. "And now let the festivities begin!"

"Had you heard anything about the game?" Peter asked Neal.

He shook his head. "Mozzie and June were acting very mysterious about it. All I knew was that it would be team-based and that June and Mozzie would lead the two teams. Peter, I see that look. What are you thinking?"

"That I'd like to know more about the publisher. I don't think Mozzie was serious when he mentioned Azathoth's machinations, but these days I don't take anything for granted. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

The Riverside Speakeasy party had been a roaring success. When it broke up at midnight, Peter informed the team that he wouldn't be watching the clock the next morning to see when people arrived. Nevertheless, Peter arrived at his standard time and he wasn't surprised to see everyone else did too. His people were a dedicated lot.

The game turned out to be an excellent team-building exercise. Mozzie captained a team composed of his apprentice Jones, Tricia, Travis, and El. June had Peter, Neal, and Diana on her side. Mozzie's team won, although Peter was suspicious Mozzie had cheated. El claimed not, but since she didn't know the rules how would she know?

Now Peter's only concern was that Azathoth had cheated. He recognized that he'd become somewhat paranoid. Every time he heard of a new Lovecraft game, movie or TV plot, he wondered if Azathoth was involved. At the end of the evening, he'd asked Jones to see him when he arrived at work, and it wasn't long before Jones was sitting opposite him in his office.

"What's this about?" Jones asked.

"You're still blogging about Lovecraft. Had you heard anything about this game?"

He nodded. "Looked into Lovecraft games, both board and video, when we started our research. Arkham Horror was released in the early '90s as I recall. Won an award at the time. This is a revamped version of the original game. I could check with my gaming contacts to see if there was anything out of the ordinary with the production."

"Go ahead. And check out the game's backers. See if anything raises a red flag. It's probably nothing."

"It's difficult to see why Azathoth would have gotten involved with it, unless he simply wanted to help promote Lovecraft."

Jones's words sparked an idea. "What if that were the case? We assume Azathoth has been interested in Lovecraft for a long time. He may have invested in the game before he became a cybercriminal. If that's true, it's conceivable he didn't conceal his identity."

Jones nodded. "I see where you're going. This could be the missing link which would enable us to identify him."

"Earlier this year we were able to identify the Dutchman. Isn't it time for us to do the same with Azathoth?"

Notes: Thanks for reading! For months, Azathoth has been preparing his traps for Neal and Peter's trip to Europe. He issues the opening salvo in next week's chapter: Young Man Among Roses. This story has nine chapters which I'll post weekly on Wednesday.

In this chapter there are several nods to The Locked Room, the story Diana just completed. If you're curious about them, I listed all the references with notes on our blog. Thanks to my awesome beta and co-conspirator Penna Nomen for discovering the game Arkham Horror. A new edition came out in 2005, the time of this story. In our latest works Penna and I have been exploring what happens when characters become authors. Penna wrote about the worlds created by authors in a fascinating post for the blog, called "Authors and Characters."

The Arkham Round Table is very much a reflection of the exchanges Penna and I have conducted over our stories. So many ideas in this chapter are a result of that partnership, it's impossible to list them all. To point out just a few, the accusations of nepotism and favoritism have their roots in Caffrey Disclosure, and the groundwork for the Adler mystery was laid in Caffrey Flashback. The trouble that Hughes encounters because normal procurement procedures weren't followed was based on Penna's knowledge of how the bidding process works. Lately our minds wandered off onto the topic of mangled music lyrics. Penna coined the phrase muddled lyrics to describe it. A warning: muddling music can be highly addictive. Anytime you'd like to add your own contributions, send them my way and I'll forward them to Diana for the White Collar white board. Diana writes under the user name Lomaria. She's posted a comment to this chapter concerning the hard bargain she had to strike with Mozzie.

Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Echoes of a Violin board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
This week's pins include the armillary sphere, illustrations for the party, cast photos, music, and the Braque painting.

Background on the Caffrey Conversation AU for new readers: This series was created by Penna Nomen and begins with her story Caffrey Conversation. Our blog has a list and short summaries for all the stories in chronological order. The primary difference from canon in that Neal was never sent to prison and the characters are several years younger. The personalities of canon characters (Elizabeth, Mozzie, Diana, Jones, Hughes, June, and Sara) are the same. In canon, Neal's only relatives to be mentioned are his father and mother. In ours, his mother Meredith has a twin sister named Noelle who is a psychologist. Noelle married Peter's older brother Joe during the 2004 Christmas holidays. Henry Winslow is Noelle's son and nearly three years older than Neal. He works at a private investigation and security company named Winston-Winslow (usually referred to as Win-Win). Neal has one other cousin, Angela, who is the daughter of Noelle and Meredith's deceased brother. Working with the White Collar team are two non-canon characters: Travis Miller, a technical expert, and Tricia Wiese, a profiler. Neal's friends at Columbia include fellow grad students Richard and Aidan. Pins for the entire cast and locations are on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site.

Disclaimers: White Collar and its characters are not mine. Any depictions of real institutions are not necessarily true or accurate.