Chapter 3: California Dreaming
Scima Workshop, Playa Vista, California. Wednesday, July 6, 2005.
Richard stood back to scrutinize the creature. He'd been working on it for the past two days. Maybe just a couple of extra inches to the tail . . .
He glanced around the room. His sculpting space was in a corner of a large workroom filled with artists working in front of computers or on sketchpads and clay models. Shelves of monsters, figures, gear, and weapons lined the walls. His boss, Ian Forster, had said Scima was keeping its options open to eventually develop a movie out of the video game. This could be the start of a new franchise series. Richard couldn't believe his luck to get in on the ground floor of something so exciting.
He picked up a ball of clay and began molding it . . .
"Stop!" Richard wheeled around to see Ian standing behind him. "Don't touch it! That hnakra is friggin' awesome. It's perfect as it is."
Richard stood back to eye the sea monster dubiously. "You're sure the tail's long enough? In Katja's description, she made a point of insisting that it appear to have a life of its own. When the hnakra attacks, the tail is supposed to act like a serpent, capable of lashing out at a second victim."
"Relax, you've already achieved it. Man, I don't know how you can work on it. It scares the bejeebers out of me."
Ian's words were reassuring, but when Richard looked around the room at the works the other artists were creating, it was hard not to feel jittery. He was the only intern. Everyone else was a seasoned gaming artist. Even though Ian had warned him the atmosphere would seem overwhelming, he hadn't been prepared for this degree of intensity. After the game was fast-tracked, everyone knew it would be a race against time. Their goal was to have a demo ready for next year's Electronic Entertainment Expo in June, but video game development normally took several years. The veterans were all complaining in one breath that it was insanity while giving each other fist bumps to achieve the impossible. When Richard collapsed in bed at night, he still had the sensation of clay in his fingers. He realized he'd gone over the edge when he awoke one morning to find his hands air-modeling creatures.
Being asked to participate in the project to bring C.S. Lewis's Out of the Silent Planet to the gaming world was the dream gig of a lifetime, but the secrecy with which the project was cloaked was draconian. The only person Richard had told was Travis. Lewis's novel was being extensively revised with the addition of many creatures in addition to the species Lewis had created. The scope being given to Richard's imagination was mind-blowing.
Members of the team had relocated to California for the summer to give it a giant kick in the pants forward. On the plus side, Ian thought Richard's chances of a permanent job were high. That is, if he were still breathing.
When Travis had suggested coming out for a week-long vacation before Comic-Con, Richard didn't foresee any issues. He knew the studio would be on a skeleton staff during the convention. He assumed he'd have to work during the week, but surely he could take a weekend off.
That was before he'd discovered he was supposed to work seven days a week along with everyone else.
"Katja asked me about you," Ian said, tossing him a rag. "She's been impressed by your work."
"You wouldn't joke about that, would you?"
He grinned. "I know I'm accused of looking demonic but even I wouldn't be that sadistic." Ian was quite aware of his resemblance to Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer—a natural comparison with his ice-blond hair and sardonic features. He deliberately played on it by favoring leather pants and heavy metal vests. "Katja checked with me about your availability to work on the concept oversight team."
Richard stared at him, dumbfounded. He'd seen Katja in the corridors and had attended meetings where she presented, but she was the equivalent of a rock star in his world. A Dutch programmer who was also skilled in concept art, she'd flown in two months ago from Amsterdam to oversee development.
"That's unheard of for an intern to be invited to the oversight team," Ian added. "Are you some sort of friggin' comet?"
"I've heard of the team, but would that mean I'd no longer sculpt?"
He nodded. "And there's another problem. The group's locking themselves up in a conference room this coming weekend to hammer out the details. She asked if you'd be free, and I told her you had a conflict, but that I'd speak to you about it. I haven't forgotten your request to have that weekend off, and I have no problem with it. You've been working seven-day weeks, sixteen-hour shifts, to make up for it."
Richard plopped onto a stool, wiping his clay-smudged hands on the rag. "Will I pay a price if I turn it down? My understanding of the oversight team is that they don't do the actual art. They critique others. Frankly, I don't think I'm that well suited for the role. I came to Scima to develop my own art. I don't think I'm ready to evaluate others."
Ian pulled up a stool next to him. "You won't get any argument from me. You're still wet behind the ears, plus you're already on the edge of burning out. I've managed my share of obsessed artists like you, and I know exactly what would happen if you accept her offer. You'd do that job but you wouldn't be able to leave your art alone. You'd wind up working two jobs and get no sleep at all. We'd be carting you out on a stretcher."
Richard winced sheepishly. His boss had him pegged.
"Besides I need you," Ian added bluntly. "You got the hnakra looking kickass, but who's gonna build my pfiftrigg if you leave? Who else could blend the head of a tapir with a frog to look like something intelligent? Help a bloke out and don't leave me in the lurch."
Richard exhaled with relief to hear Ian echo his own desires. "You'll handle it with Katja?"
"Yeah, I'll tell her you said thanks but no thanks. She can steal someone else. Now, mitts off the hnakra and focus on the pfiftrigg."
Watson Hall, Columbia University. July 6, 2005, Wednesday evening.
Neal frowned at the painting once more then fixed a steely-eyed gaze on Bianka. "Tell me why you squandered valuable paint on this canvas?" He reinforced his scowl. "Well? I'm waiting."
She dissolved into giggles. "No one could be that cruel."
"Trust me, Professor Stockman can and will. She used almost exactly the same words on me last year."
They were perched on stools in Bianka's studio. She'd been stressing over the critiques she'd be subjected to by her art professors once classes resumed. Neal had felt much the same way last year when he faced his first critiques, but he didn't have the language barrier to overcome. He'd offered to conduct mock interviews to help Bianka prepare.
Neal liked her accent and had no difficulty in understanding her, but he could understand why she was worried. When she became nervous, her accent broadened. The correct English expressions sometimes proved elusive, leaving her flustered and tongue-tied.
"Stockman is infamous for her intimidation tactics, particularly with first-year students. Apparently she takes joy in pulverizing any confidence we might have and reducing us to puddles of pond scum. By the end of the year, we realized she was doing it deliberately as part of the toughening up process. She actually is quite nice and in another setting, you'd find her delightful."
"If you say so," she said, taking a deep breath. "What is Neal Caffrey's opinion of my art?"
"Your technique is refined and elegant. And you know how much I admire the old masters."
"I sense a 'but' coming."
"Classical realism is not seen very much at Columbia," he said, trying to express it as gently as possible. He predicted Stockman would impale her for being too derivative.
"You're being kind. My professors in Hungary had warned me about the criticism I would receive. That I was all technique and no originality." She looked up at him nervously. "Any suggestions?"
"You have to listen to your internal voice. I suspect your professors will encourage you to experiment with different methods. That's why you're here. I had many of the same issues and sympathize with your situation. My first teachers had me copy the masters, a method that is now frowned upon."
"But you were able to move forward. Perhaps if I listen to more Mozart it will help."
"It can't hurt. Or Haydn. That CD you lent me is beautiful music."
Her face brightened at the praise. "That's the Festetics String Quartet, Hungary's most famous ensemble. They're in town and scheduled to give a concert at the Frick Museum on Friday night. Are you familiar with the salon evenings the Frick holds?"
"I've been to several of them."
"I was planning to go. Would you like to join me? We could have supper first, perhaps the Liszt Cafe. Have you ever been there?"
"No, but I've wanted to. It has the reputation for having the best Hungarian food on the Upper East Side."
"It's my source for comfort food when I miss Budapest," she said. "Their chicken paprikash makes me think I'm home again, and their desserts . . . Don't get me started."
As Bianka described the dishes, Neal's mouth began to water too. He hadn't been to the Frick in a while. He'd enjoy visiting old acquaintances among the works on display. Included in the collection was one of Neal's favorite paintings—Vermeer's Mistress and Maid.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. He and Bianka had both earned a reward after all the painting they'd done over the past few weeks. It wasn't really a date but it'd be good to have an evening on the town. And so what if it were a date? It was time to move on.
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
When Neal arrived at work the next morning, he stopped off for a coffee then headed straight to his art authentication niche in the lab. Travis was already working at his computer which was next to his art corner.
"Any news on the Azathoth front?" Neal asked, taking a seat.
Travis nodded, swiveling his chair to face Neal. "We received the data yesterday evening and already have positive confirmation that his malware was used. It appears that the security program was infected two weeks ago. This is the first instance of us sharing an investigation with D.C. Art Crimes since the directive took place. So far so good."
Last month the assistant director had ordered that in all cases where there was a possibility of museum security software tampering, Travis's team was to be in charge of the analysis. Neal had wondered if Kramer would play nice or drag his feet.
Neal took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. The swill was worse than normal. White Collar really needed to make daily cleaning of the coffee machine a required task for all probies. "This will make the West Coast museums rue the day they didn't implement Aidan's anti-malware."
Travis nodded. "I've already heard from museums in L.A. and San Francisco. News like this spreads like wildfire. Kramer's having all inquiries concerning technology forwarded directly to me."
"Kramer, the team player. This will take getting used to." For as long as Neal had worked at the Bureau, Kramer had only grudgingly allowed the New York office to participate in art crime cases when they occurred in the New York metropolitan area and even for most of those he claimed jurisdiction.
"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Peter said, approaching them. He pulled up a chair. "It's a new era of cooperation."
"About time," Neal muttered to his coffee.
Peter chuckled. "I understand the sentiment and second it. Apparently my former mentor has finally seen the light."
"Or the assistant director lit a fire under him," Travis noted. "Nothing like pressure from up above to stoke the flames."
Peter smiled acknowledgement. "Then by your reasoning, that must have been quite a fire. Phil called me yesterday afternoon just as I was getting ready to leave. He wanted to brainstorm ways to provide assistance to the West Coast museums. Kramer was very complimentary of our successes with the Interpol art crimes task force, and specifically mentioned the compliments the French gave us for our presentations in Paris last month. He'd like us to take our dog and pony show to the West Coast."
"The one where I conduct a workshop on how to steal a painting?" Neal asked incredulously. "Kramer wants me to present on that?"
Peter shrugged. "He knows you're the expert, and the timing couldn't be better. You sacrificed vacation time to help Travis and me at astro camp a few weeks ago. Good deeds like that shouldn't go unrewarded. You were going to have to pay for your airfare to Comic-Con. Now I can offer you expense-paid airfare. Kramer wants us to go to Seattle, San Francisco, and Los Angeles next week. It's a tight schedule but the up side is that we'll be done in time for the opening day hoopla at Comic-Con on the thirteenth. How does that sound?"
"Like I better start reviewing blueprints." Neal was excited at the excuse to study the security systems of some of America's finest museums. Too bad Mozzie had already left. He would have loved participating, even if the thefts would never be accomplished. "I've always wanted to plan a heist at the Getty," he confided, not caring how that sounded. "I accept your offer gladly."
"Three cities in three days?" Travis asked. "Is Kramer trying to establish a new record?"
"If we took more time, we'd have to miss out on the first couple of days of Comic-Con," Peter said. "With the museums pressing so hard, Kramer didn't want to delay till the following week." He turned to Neal. "How do you feel about it?"
"The security presentation is ready to go. Tailoring the workshops to the specific museums and planning the thefts will take the most time, but I accept the Bureau challenge to win the triple crown of museum heists." Neal wasn't concerned. This was the kind of dream assignment he thrived on.
"That's the spirit," Peter said, beaming. "I promise the full cooperation of the team to assist wherever we can."
"I'm glad to hear it. Does that mean I can count on you to be part of my crew?"
"Sure. We'll turn the conference room upstairs into our hideout. Cover the table with blueprints. I suspect Diana and Jones will also want to take a crack at stealing art. How about you, Travis?"
He chuckled. "A useful addition to my skill set. Count me in, at least through Friday morning. I can leave for the airport straight from work."
"We'll make this a super-sized version of the workshops you held in Paris and London," Peter said. "It's been on my list to have you conduct one for the team. You'll be giving us valuable training while we help you prepare for next week."
Did Peter understand the ramifications? Neal decided to test him. "You know what you're saying, don't you? Art Heist Boot Camp?"
He broke into a smile. "You got me. I hadn't thought we'd ever hold another one of those, but the cause is good." He paused to give Neal a stern look. "No costumes, agreed?"
"I'll take that under advisement."
"We have two days to prepare plus any weekend time you'd like to sacrifice," Peter said.
Neal considered Peter's remark. He knew Peter wasn't serious, but it was a natural opening. "Ever since Paris, El's been teasing me about wanting to join my crew. A Saturday session presents the perfect opportunity. I could make her dream come true."
Peter hesitated like he was going to subject Neal to more eye-rolling, but instead relaxed into a smile. "You're right. You can teach her how to be a thief, and I can't believe I just said that. I'll give her a call. I bet she'll want you to come over to our place and stay for dinner. In fact, bring your suitcase too. Sunday morning we'll fly to Seattle. You should stay overnight then we can go to the airport together."
"When you've wrapped up your presentations in L.A., you can ride down to San Diego with Richard and me," Travis offered. "I'll be working out of the L.A. office Monday through Wednesday."
"Weren't you scheduled to take the entire week off?" Peter asked.
"That was the plan, but since Richard will have to work, I might as well too. I'm refining my program to crunch the Bureau's email data. Thanks to some tips from Win-Win, I was able to improve my algorithms."
"Realistically, do you think it will be possible to track down an FBI informant simply through email patterns?" Peter asked.
"Frankly I don't know, but I'm prepared to give it my best shot. Win-Win's assistance on cell phone transmissions increases our odds considerably."
The FBI was grappling with the likelihood of informants who were leaking not only to Ydrus but to Adler as well. That the fugitive hedge fund manager had been able to escape capture for two years raised the odds that he was receiving assistance from someone within the Bureau. Neal suspected that while Henry was in Argentina, he'd consult with Win-Win's local partners on the problem. For Adler to remain free, he had to be paying off authorities in Argentina as well.
During the time Neal worked for Adler, his boss often commented that anyone could be bought. It was a game of skill to discover what the proper leverage was. Klaus had been equally cynical about law enforcement agencies. When Neal left Klaus's crew, he met Mozzie who took it upon himself to 'enlighten' Neal about the corruption plaguing the military, corporations, and government. In Mozzie's eyes they were all one vast corrupt industrial complex. For a kid who liked to hold onto some illusions, it had been a disheartening education.
Then Neal chanced upon Peter, a man of complete integrity. You could see it in his eyes. Yes, a fed but one who couldn't be bought. Peter believed in the system. Maybe the world wasn't quite as bleak as Neal had been led to believe. Peter was someone who treated you fairly. Afterward, Neal discovered Peter wasn't alone. Travis, Jones, Diana, Hughes—they all counted among the good guys.
"Anything wrong?" Peter asked. "If you're having second thoughts, we could cancel one of the cities."
"No, it's not that," Neal said, fingering his mug of FBI swill. "Just the twists and turns of life. I renounced my old career path to make a clean start, and now I'm taking you back with me."
"No one's going back," retorted Travis. "You're teaching us how to shapeshift, and I for one can't wait to learn."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
It didn't take long for Neal to claim possession of the conference room. Peter could track his progress through the glass wall in his office. Diana was helping Neal with the prep work, and they'd already accumulated an impressive stack of blueprints and diagrams. Luckily no one else had booked the space. For the rest of the week it would be heist central.
Peter regretted he'd miss the start of boot camp which was scheduled to begin at two o'clock, but he'd already told Tricia he'd meet her in her office. And these days her schedule was tighter than his.
As he pushed the elevator button to go up to her floor, Peter reflected on the possible reasons for the meeting. She'd been vague on the phone, simply stating she'd rather discuss it in person. They'd reviewed Azathoth at the previous day's briefing, which invited speculation she had a new theory or proposal.
Tricia didn't take long to confirm his suspicion. "When Travis confirmed Azathoth's involvement with the Whistler theft, it raised a red flag for me," she admitted.
"You think there's something more to it than him simply flaunting his ability to steal with impunity?"
"I do," she said, tapping her notes with a pen. "It's the location that troubles me. Rolf could have easily discovered that Neal would attend Comic-Con. Once Aidan's video was selected to be presented at the convention, he likely assumed that Neal and his college friends would all go. Your presence, however, was more problematic. What if Rolf arranged to have a painting stolen close to the convention site in order to give you an additional incentive to go? He may have designed a trap for which he wants both of you present."
"I can see why you'd be concerned, but if Rolf had wanted to lead us into a trap, why wait for California? He knows where we are. He could pull something at any time in New York."
"He may have a special reason for wanting you to be in California. He's made use of a movie soundstage before."
"When he trapped me in the TARDIS at the bottom of an underwater tank? No need to remind me."
"And that house where he held you and Neal captive last fall had many elements of a movie set."
"What do you want me to do? Cancel the trip? Now, it's not only Comic-Con we're talking about, but a series of presentations as well." Peter explained their plans for the following week. "I'm encouraged by Kramer's initiative. This demonstrates his attitude toward Neal is finally beginning to soften. He's openly acknowledging Neal's contributions to the work of the Bureau."
Her brow furrowed. "I remember Kramer was difficult when the Raphael painting was stolen last summer but haven't heard of any other issues. I gather it's been an ongoing problem?"
Peter nodded. "Kramer's been a tough sell. For the past several months he's attempted to convince me that Neal would eventually revert to being a criminal and that I was putting my own career at risk. It had gotten to the point I was unsure what kind of future Neal would have if he stayed with the Bureau. As you know there's always been a certain amount of rivalry between D.C. Art Crimes and our task force over allocation of the limited budgetary resources, but this year the problems quadrupled."
"Does Neal know about Kramer's views?"
"Not regarding him personally, but he's aware Kramer's tried to cut us out of handling art crimes." Peter hesitated. He wished he could tell Tricia of Kramer's campaign to keep Neal off the Interpol art crimes task force, but Hughes had divulged that dismaying information confidentially. In any case, it was past history. Kramer was now promoting Neal rather than shutting him out.
Tricia gazed at the photos of her sons on her desk as she considered. "This places me in a tough spot. As a friend, I'm concerned you're walking into a trap, but professionally speaking, you need to go. If you were to turn down Kramer's request, I don't know of any reason you could give which would satisfy him. Who will attend Comic-Con?"
"El will fly out on Wednesday to join us. Travis, Richard, Aidan, and his girlfriend Keiko will also be there. Mozzie plans to attend, but I don't believe Janet will be there. She's in the midst of final preparations for a new musical."
"Are you relieved about that? She can't bring costumes."
Peter chuckled. "We already have t-shirts of Yellowface the Masked Avenger to wear. I think I'm safe this trip."
"Costumes and disguises . . . That's another item of concern. We don't know how Rolf and Marta may have changed their appearance."
"Do you view Comic-Con as the greatest threat?"
She nodded. "I've even considered that Azathoth ensured Aidan would win the prize at the sci-fi convention to encourage your attendance. How crazy is that?"
"Not very," Peter admitted ruefully. "Henry and I discussed the possibility that Rolf manipulated the judging of the painting competition to facilitate Neal going to London. That man has devised such elaborate hoaxes that nothing would surprise me now."
"The only reassurance we have is that up to now he hasn't seriously injured you. I continue to believe Rolf wouldn't have allowed you to drown when you were abducted in London."
"And for that I'll give Diana and your assistance a large share of the credit. Your plan to use her stories to manipulate his behavior appears to be paying dividends."
"Is it helping with that other aspect we talked about?"
"Encouraging Neal to be more open? I think so. El told me in Paris that she had a conversation with him about Fiona, where he confided he'd been starting to equate her with her doctor role in Arkham Files. It seemed natural for him to talk about private matters, the implication being he wouldn't have before."
"That's excellent news. That's what we'd hoped for when Diana made her a neurologist."
"Unfortunately, it works both ways. El wouldn't share very much of what they discussed. She claimed doctor-patient confidentiality."
Tricia broke into a laugh. "An unforeseen complication! You need to remind her that Diana also wrote that you two share everything."
"I already did," he reported glumly. "She countered that Diana only wrote that I shared everything with her, not the other way around."
"Oops. I'll mention that at the next Round Table session." Her expression grew more serious. "I'm glad Neal is finding so much support. When I heard Rolf was Azathoth, I was concerned about how he would handle it."
"He claims he's not affected, but both Henry and I believe he's fooling himself. I'm doing all I can to keep him busy. If he realizes the valuable contributions he's making to the team, that should help."
"What's your strategy?"
"At the moment he's leading the team in a round of Art Heist Boot Camp." Peter knew she would appreciate that. Last fall Tricia had attended a video gaming boot camp which Jones and Diana had run.
"Not another one!" Tricia said, chuckling. "How many does this make?"
"We've lost track. The last one was for my role as a ski instructor. I must confess I'm much happier playing an art thief than a Lothario." Peter described the parameters of the boot camp.
She smiled her approval. "By demonstrating how much you value Neal's skills as a thief, it lessens any distance that might still exist between him and the rest of the team."
"June's husband had expressed much the same sentiment to me shortly after Neal moved into their house. I believe that was the last time I saw him before he passed. I've often thought about those words, especially when Kramer made Neal's past such an issue."
Tricia smiled understanding. "Now you'll all be art thieves together."
"I bet you never thought you'd be saying those words to me," Peter said, chuckling, "but look at the assistance Aidan's been providing. His company thrives because they're hackers at heart. Travis had a little of that same instinct, and Aidan has brought out more of it. By being able to place themselves in the mindset of hackers they're able to foil them. We're applying the same principle to art crimes."
Tricia quirked an eyebrow. "If Ydrus hears about this, they may want to recruit your entire team."
"It better not come to that. Before identifying Rolf, we'd considered Ydrus was using Azathoth to recruit Neal. Now we're back to revenge."
She nodded. "Which brings us back to Comic-Con." Swiveling her chair to face her computer, she pulled up the image of the Whistler painting. "I showed this work to the family last night. My older son took one look at it and asked if the name was Something Wicked This Way Comes."
Startled, Peter asked, "Did he study Macbeth last year at school?"
"I wish! He's been reading Ray Bradbury." A smile crossed her face but it quickly vanished. "We already discussed the painting's resemblance to Lovecraft, but his words made me wonder if there's a more ominous significance. Be careful, Peter, and pass the same advice onto Neal."
WCWCWCWCWCWCWC
When Peter returned to the White Collar floor, he joined the team at boot camp. As a veteran of the workshops which Neal held in London and Paris, Peter planned to assume the assistant role.
Peter had been glad to see that Travis was enthusiastic about attending the camp. With his technical expertise, he could bring a valuable perspective to the art of the heist. When Peter arrived, Diana and Jones were working as a team and Neal was helping Travis. Peter replaced Neal to allow him to be a floater.
The first stop on their trip would be in Seattle, and that was their current assignment. Neal had targeted the Seattle Art Museum. He'd designed a hypothetical Caravaggio exhibition for the galleries. When Peter saw the piece he'd selected for them to steal, he had to chuckle. Cardsharps? Did Neal have himself in mind? Or did he plan to have Henry participate in the workshop later on? That thought gave Peter pause. Neal and Henry working together on a heist . . .
Travis had appropriated the museum blueprint and was buried in circuity diagrams, which left Peter free to muse over what-ifs. Henry's father had blackmailed Neal into fleeing to Europe. If Henry had known about it, he might have been upset enough to take off with Neal, forming a team of criminal brothers similar to the Mansfelds. Klaus quite possibly would have hired both of them. Neal freely admitted he was on the path to becoming a renaissance criminal. If Henry had been along for the ride, they would have been an even worse nightmare for law enforcement.
"Are you feeling okay?" Neal asked, walking over. "You look like you saw a ghost."
"Simply engaging in a scary hypothetical," Peter said, huffing a chuckle he didn't feel.
"Care to share?"
"Not now. Maybe after several beers."
Neal's cell phone rang. He smiled when he saw the name on the display. He showed it to Peter then answered, "Buenos Dias, Henry. Or should I call you Enrique? . . . No, I'm not playing hooky. I'm planning an art heist and Diana, Jones, and Travis are helping me. Peter's right here if you don't believe me. You want me to put you on speaker?" He raised a brow at his response.
"Henry's on the phone and would like to speak to all of us," he said, addressing the group. He placed the phone on the table. "Take it away, Henry."
"I'm calling from the office of Win-Win's partners in Buenos Aires. There's been a break in the Adler case. Detective Gonzalo has a lead on where Adler's hideout may be. There's a potential site in the rainforest in the northern part of the country near the border with Paraguay that bears checking out."
His news electrified the room. Henry didn't have many details. Gonzalo had received a tip from a local while he was visiting his parents in a small town two hours away from the site.
"Have you been in touch with the local authorities?" Jones asked.
"Not yet. If we contact the police, they may leak it to Adler and he'd be gone before we have a chance to investigate. Besides the tip is so sketchy, we're not sure if there's enough to go on."
When Henry rang off, boot camp was put on hold. The possibility that Adler might finally be captured knocked any other thoughts out of the room. Jones was in charge of coordinating joint operations with Win-Win. His counterpart at Win-Win was Radha Prasad. Since Adler was out of the FBI's jurisdiction, White Collar was forced to leave the investigation in the hands of Win-Win and Interpol.
Adler had been a fugitive since 2003. Was this finally the break they'd all been hoping for?
Notes: Penna and I were saddened to hear of the death of Chester Bennington this past week. He was the lead singer for Linkin Park, a group which has a close connection to our AU. Its angst-driven music resonated with Penna during a very stressful time in her life. It was a period when the canon episodes of White Collar were also angsty. She channeled those emotions into the AU, and has written about the experience in her latest post, "One More Light Goes Out."
My post for this week is called "A Thief Among Thieves." It's a follow-up to a post Penna wrote about do-overs and keepers a few weeks earlier. In canon, Neal's felon status was held against him even as his team members reaped the benefit from his expertise. His anklet served as a constant reminder that he wasn't one of them. In our AU, it's a different situation. Penna had Byron reference it in By the Book, when in Chapter 10 he urged Peter to demonstrate to Neal that his skills as a thief are valued and he now has the opportunity to use them for good. The art heist workshops are a manifestation of that strategy.
The creatures Richard is working on at Scima are taken from the novel "Out of the Silent Planet" by C.S. Lewis. To my knowledge, it's never been made into a video game.
Next week while Neal leads art heist boot camp, Rolf and Klaus have a strategy session of their own, and down in Argentina the action heats up for Henry. I hope you'll join me for Chapter 4: Unfinished Business.
Many thanks for reading and your comments and, as always, to the magnificent Penna for her beta help.
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Nocturne in Black and Gold board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website