Chapter 10: Rendezvous

Columbia University. November 21, 2004. Sunday morning.

On Sunday morning, Neal was already at Prentis Hall by seven o'clock. That was one of the advantages of living in his studio. It was too uncomfortable to oversleep.

The day before, he'd moved all the gear he thought he would need into his studio. Despite Peter's words of reassurance about Diana's con, he didn't want to take any chances. Let Tramonte hang around Columbia. Neal didn't want him anywhere near June. If it all went according to plan, he wouldn't have to live at his studio very long.

The only metal shop at Columbia was at Prentis Hall. Aidan's studio there had become the base of operations for the musketeers. On the way over, Neal stopped off to pick up bagels and coffee for everyone. Richard and Aidan had also arrived early and over breakfast they worked out their schedules. Aidan would spend the day working on the chip for the duplicate signal emitter. Travis had said he'd arrive at eight to design the signal jammer.

While Neal made the ring setting, Richard would prepare a custom ring box back at Watson. The previous night they'd finalized the design for a hidden compartment in the bottom of the ring box. The case appeared to be tooled leather but had a thin aluminum core and was unexpectedly light. When the Marie Antoinette earrings were inside, the weight would be equivalent to a traditional box with only the ring.

After letting Travis in, Neal headed for the metal shop. On a Sunday morning he had the shop to himself. Mozzie had brought over the specialized tools required for the job the previous afternoon when he picked up the stone. Neal had already made several settings in the past so wasn't expecting any issues to crop up. Recycling the metal wouldn't be a challenge.

But when it came time for the first step—melting down the setting of the McNally Solitaire—Neal had to stop. He hadn't expected to get that emotional about it. After all, it was just a ring, wasn't it? Neal sat on the edge of a stool, fingering it. Seeing the setting with no stone was intense. That ring was meant to be a symbol of his love for Kate. Now all that remained was an empty shell.

It wasn't that long ago when he'd made it, but he'd been a different person. He was Adler's protégé with Adler schooling him in the high-spending lifestyle of the New York elite just as Mansfeld had done in Europe. Neal had met Mozzie shortly after moving to New York in 2003 and was learning new skills: ring-making, counterfeiting, advanced cons.

That whole period—from the time he'd worked with Keller, Klaus, Mozzie, until finally Adler—Neal had gone from one sorcerer to another, apprenticing himself out and absorbing every trick he could master from them. Throughout the process he was spinning more and more out of control. So what if he nearly got singed? The Berlin job, the Uffizi manuscript, the coin job in Madrid, they all should have been wake-up calls, but with every near disaster he'd simply flee and move on to the next sorcerer.

And there was Kate. He'd fallen hard for her. When he'd made this ring, he'd been so sure she shared his feelings. They were caught up in the same whirlwind together. Life in the clouds had been intoxicating. There was nothing he couldn't do and no one to stop him.

But then the dream world vanished with the debacle over the Ponzi scheme. Not long afterwards he finally woke up to Kate's true feelings about him. And the ring? One of the last surviving relics of that life was now his ticket to con his way back into the FBI.

Shaking off the memories, Neal got up and tossed the ring into the crucible.

He was using the lost wax process to prepare the new setting and the schedule was tight. He'd have to carve the wax mold, polish, and refine it by midday if he hoped to cast and finish the ring by the evening. He only had a couple of photos of the original ring to work with. But Tramonte wouldn't have any more knowledge than he did, so it should pass inspection.

Once the gold was melted, Neal made quick work of carving the mold and by eleven was ready for a break. He decided to return to Watson to help Richard. On the way he'd stop off at Aidan's studio to store his materials and check on Travis and Aidan's progress. Neal was cleaning up his tools when Peter called him on his cell phone.

"Had lunch yet?" Peter asked.

"No, but I'm aiming to."

"How 'bout I join you? El's working today and made lunch for both of us. Okay if I meet you at your studio? I could be there in about an hour."

"Could you give me an extra thirty minutes? As you know, I'm over at Prentis."

"Metal shop?"

"Yeah, arts and crafts."

"Roman coins?

"Would you like me to make you some?" Neal grinned. He was glad Peter called. Something had changed since that tense Saturday lunch. He could tell from Peter's voice that he was more relaxed. Apparently Peter had come to terms with the situation. Neal wished he could bring Peter in on the con, but there were too many illegal aspects to it. At least now they could tease each other about it.

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"Excellent pasta salad, Peter. El outdid herself." Neal put down his fork. "I don't know when I've eaten so well as this past week. With all the food she's been providing . . . she does realize I have access to other food sources, right? That OPR is permitting me to eat?"

"She wants to do it, Neal. It helps her cope."

They were sitting in Neal's studio. He'd cleared off his work table to make space for the hamper of food Peter had brought. Neal could see Peter's eyes scan the clothes stuffed in gym bags and the stacks of books.

"Where'd you sleep? I know you said you didn't want to stay at June's but surely you didn't sleep on the floor?"

"The lounge. I wasn't alone. There was another guy crashing. The worst part is having to go out in the cold for a cup of coffee, but I'll live." Neal paused and asked the question on the top on his mind. "You mentioned you had some news?"

"Our surveillance paid off." Peter moved his plate aside and rested his elbows on the worktable. "We photographed Fowler visiting Tramonte last night. Have confirmation from the desk clerk. I wouldn't be surprised if Fowler somehow didn't hear about the discovery of the earrings. He must have chewed Tramonte out royally for hiding them in the wrong locker."

"It would be an easy mistake to make. I've seen that sheet of paper in the coach's office that has the locker assignments. Scrawls you wouldn't believe." Neal winced in fake sympathy. "Such an embarrassment for Tramonte."

"He should have less of a reason to go after you now." Peter opened the cooler and brought out a beer. "Sure you don't want to join me with one of these? We need to toast success whenever it comes. El insisted I bring imported."

"You know I think I just might," Neal said as he accepted a Stella Artois—El really had thought of everything. "I still feel it's better for me to stay away from June's place. And since I'm focusing on my courses and art right now, this is a convenient place to camp out."

"About that …" Peter's face grew serious. "I know you're planning something."

Neal started to interrupt, but Peter held up a hand to forestall him. "Save it. And don't worry, I won't try to pry it out of you. I understand why you're not telling me. The shelf life for this con about the earrings having been discovered is not very long. Will it be enough?"

Neal was surprised Peter was being so upfront about it. The least he could do was respond in kind. "Honestly, I don't know but I hope so. I don't plan to sleep here much longer."

"Nothing like having an extra incentive. You have to be pining for the loft already." Peter walked over to the whiteboard on the wall. "I see you've added a new acronym. Now there's AFO under SAS. What's that? Art Fanciers Organization?"

"Not even close."

"And what was SAS again? You mentioned it and it slipped my mind."

Neal chuckled. "Good try. You know I never told you. Want to try another guess?"

"I'm still working on it. Got a new challenge now. Surely it's not Art Forgers Organization?" Peter's eyes narrowed as he looked at Neal suspiciously. "Is there an Art Forgers Organization?"

Interrupting Neal's reply was a light rap on the door. "Hey, I've got a ques— Oh . . . Hi, Peter." Richard had started to enter the room but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Peter. "Sorry, I won't bother you. We—we'll talk later."

"No, go right ahead. No bother at all," Peter said, beckoning him in. "Like a beer? I have plenty."

"Sure, ooookaaaay." Richard glanced over at Neal nervously. It was obvious he wasn't used to playing these games. He was probably trying to figure out how much Peter knew. "I was just . . . assembling a mobile and wanted to ask for Neal's help."

"Mobile? I'm good at putting two and two together." Peter handed Richard a beer. "Tell you what, we'll both come over. This will be fun." Peter was clearly enjoying himself more and more.

Peter and Neal walked with Richard to his studio. Behind Peter's back, Neal shrugged to a flustered Richard. Not much Neal would be able to do to make it easier for Richard. He was playing major league ball now.

Richard's mobile had grown in size since last Neal saw it and was threatening to devour his entire studio. Metal pieces, boxes of balls, and cable lay on the table, chairs, floor, every available surface. Lying in the midst of all the clutter was the aluminum shell for the ring box, but since the leather skin hadn't been applied, it looked like one of the parts for the mobile.

Richard eyed Peter uneasily as he surveyed the chaos and paused at the whiteboard. "So you're AFO too? What gives?"

Neal jumped in. "Peter loves puzzles. We shouldn't give him any clues. It would spoil his fun."

"Glad you enjoy puzzles," Richard said, picking up the cue. "Assembling this mobile is like working a gigantic jigsaw."

As Neal and Peter helped Richard attach a new arm to the mobile, Peter said, "I was surprised to see you at the fencing competition. Didn't know you fenced."

"Aidan and Neal coerced me to give it a whirl. I'm a rank beginner."

"Don't be so modest. I observed you practicing with Neal before his sabre bout. Anyone who is decent enough to be used as a warm-up before an event must have talents I was unaware of."

Richard squirmed uncomfortably. "Guess it's the pirate blood in me."

"Pirate blood, huh? That must be it." Peter, smiling, dropped the subject. No doubt, he took pity on Richard. Neal scored two points for Peter in that bout.

Afterward, they invited Richard back to Neal's studio to help polish off the food. Neal was relieved to see Peter behave, contenting himself with discussing Richard's plans for the mobile and his other works for the spring exhibition.

When Richard left, Peter asked Neal if he'd be working at his studio in the afternoon.

"No, I'll be over at Prentis most of the day."

"Why not at Watson? Your art's here."

"I'm working on a metal sculpture." Okay, a bit of a stretch, but technically you could call a ring mount a sculpture. Neal's aversion to lying to Peter had developed into a game of how far could he stretch the truth without breaking it. He'd award himself two points for creativity for that one. That made them even. "Besides, you should be happy I'm there, Peter. The security's tighter."

"That's where Aidan's studio is, right?" When Neal nodded, Peter shook his head and grinned at him.

"What?" Neal asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Peter said. "I'm just happy you've made such good friends here." Picking up the hamper, he added, "If you need any more help with mobiles, or anything else, you give me a call, okay?"

"Thanks, and thank El for me. Tell her I hope to be back grazing at your place before very long."

"We're both counting on it."

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Midafternoon, Mozzie showed up at the entrance to Prentis Hall, complete with his Athos wig and wide-brimmed felt hat.

"I see you've acquired a plume for your hat," Neal said as he let him in.

"I've become very fond of my chapeau," Mozzie replied, stroking the feather with his hand. "It adds a certain rakish flair to my demeanor."

Neal decided to play along. Mozzie was having too much fun at being Athos to be denied. "Have you considered a cape to complement your ensemble?"

Mozzie's eyes lit up. "Excellent point! Particularly for tomorrow night. Speaking of which, my contact was happy to oblige. The stone will be ready tomorrow afternoon. How is the mount progressing?"

"I'll finish it by the end of the day," Neal said as he opened the door to Aidan's studio.

"Athos, what news?" Aidan said, saluting him cheerfully.

Reaching into a canvas tote, Mozzie pulled out three boxes. "There are the supplies you'd asked for. I've also procured a device which should cause Richelieu considerable consternation." He opened one of the boxes and removed a cell phone from a leather case, handing it to Neal. "This is the latest model from Qualcomm. It has a built-in GPS device and with a little modification should suit our needs nicely."

Neal examined the phone. "Mickey Mouse? Really?"

"Have you forgotten the Mouseketeers? Under the circumstances, it seemed appropriate."

The studio door opened and Richard and Travis walked into the studio. Mozzie froze as if he'd been caught in the blinding glare of police searchlights but Richard appeared not to notice and greeted him warmly, "Athos, glad you're here. Travis, this is the friend I was telling you about."

Mozzie, trying gallantly to recover his sangfroid, assumed a dignified stance as far as possible away from Travis. He twirled a lock from his wig in front of his face as he mumbled a "Salut" to the arrivals.

Travis, taking in the wig and the hat, kept a straight face with only a slight quirk at the corners of his mouth. Travis had met Mozzie earlier in the fall. He and Mozzie had kept a long vigil with El when Peter and Neal were being held by the cybercriminal Azathoth. There was no way Travis wouldn't recognize Mozzie now. But Neal wasn't concerned. Travis undoubtedly had guessed the identity of Richard's mystery supplier anyway.

"Richard was showing me around the basement," Travis said. "We crawled up a shaft from the basement to the secret door on the second floor. Made me feel like I was in the ventilator shaft of the Enterprise."

Travis had used the magic words to make Mozzie lose his initial terror. "Secret door? You do know that Prentis is rumored to be the birthplace of the atom bomb. I wonder—"

"The second floor is the heat transfer research center, not a clandestine nuclear research facility," Aidan hastened to assure him. "Believe me, I've checked."

"Ah, the gullibility of youth. That's what the overlords would have you believe," Mozzie rebuffed enigmatically. "I bid you au revoir until our next rendezvous," and with a final doff of his hat Mozzie exited stage right.

Neal suspected his departure had been precipitated by Travis's arrival, and that was for the best for Travis's sake as well. Neal didn't want Travis involved any more than absolutely necessary. Plausible deniability was the code phrase of the day.

By six o'clock, Neal had finished the final steps of aging and polishing the ring. After a careful scrutiny g it with his loupe, he nodded with satisfaction. He hadn't lost his touch. It'd been a while since he'd made a ring but Klaus had taught him well. He'd have to find more reasons to keep his skill up.

Neal returned to Aidan's studio to check on the progress of the others. Travis was in the midst of checking his prototype. "What do you think of the size?" he asked Aidan, ignoring Neal. "Will it work?"

The jammer was two inches wide by three inches long, and a half-inch thick. Aidan picked it up, weighing it in his hand. "Very lightweight. Impressive. If I didn't want the public to know I was using it, I could put it inside almost anything."

Travis nodded in agreement. "This should suit your purposes very well. The power switch is on the side. The range is ten feet, with enough battery life to last eight hours."

"Have you tested it with the anklet Athos provided?" Richard asked.

"Yes, and it performed flawlessly," Travis said. "The device can be programmed for any signal. Aidan will have no difficulty in modifying it to any signal he chooses."

"This will be my best creation yet," Aidan said with a grin. "I'm sure I'll be given the green light to develop it for the exhibition."

"We should celebrate," Neal added. "Travis, you haven't been to the Roaring Lion. My treat."

"That's not right," Richard objected. "This has nothing to do with you. Aidan should pay."

"Nah, he paid last time," Neal said. "I owe him."

Travis jumped in. "I want to pay. Call it my initiation into the band."

"Let's make it easy," Neal said. "I'll flip a coin."

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"Not bad," said Travis, "but at the University of Texas, not only did we put the TARDIS on the roof of a building, but afterwards we directed it by means of its alien technology to transport itself overnight to the lawn of the President's house. Unquestionably a superior hack."

The four of them were heading back to Prentis for band rehearsal after a very satisfactory feast at the Roaring Lion, paid for, naturally, by Neal who had no trouble in winning the coin toss. Aidan and Travis had spent the past thirty minutes comparing undergrad hacks, which Neal suspected were being wildly overblown. Nevertheless, he was beginning to seriously regret having missed out on undergraduate life.

When they arrived at the rehearsal room, Neal introduced Travis to the remaining members of the group.

"I'd noticed the drum equipment and was hoping that hadn't been left by another group," Fiona said, clearly delighted to have Travis join them.

"Don't get too excited," Travis warned. "It's been years since I played and digital drums will be a new experience."

"No need to stress," Michael assured him. "I was a rank beginner when I started—"

"And now look at him—he's a tambourine virtuoso," Keiko finished for him, her eyes bright with merriment.

"Need any help setting up the drums?" Richard asked. "We used digital drums in a jazz ensemble I played with."

Rehearsal started a little late to give Travis time to experiment with the drums. Neal took advantage of the delay to pull Fiona aside. "Sorry again about having to cancel our date last night. Work interfered."

"Our jobs aren't making it easy on us, are they? Isn't there a law against the FBI forcing you to work on a Saturday night?"

Neal shook his head. "I wish."

It's okay. You don't have to explain. I'm getting used to the weird schedules you're required to keep for your undercover ops. You secret agents are all alike."

"Oh, and how many other secret agents do you know?" Neal challenged her with a grin.

"Hey, a girl needs to keep her own mysteries," Fiona replied, tossing her hair back. "Seriously, though, it was probably for the best you weren't free. I was beat after working the auction all day. I heard you turned in the star performance at the fencing match. I wish I could have seen it."

"The guys were all good. The gym was so packed you might not have gotten a seat. If you're interested, we'll be competing again in two weeks." Neal was surprised to hear himself say that. A few days ago he would have placed the odds of continuing at Columbia at slim to none. But now he was making plans for the future as if it were a done deal. Careful, Caffrey. Don't jinx it.

"I'd like that," Fiona said. "Weatherby's promised me I won't have to work Saturdays in December. I'm holding them to it." She tilted her head and eyed him speculatively. "Any chance the FBI could give you some Saturdays off?"

"I think I could persuade them," Neal said with a smile.

"Could you two manage to pull yourselves away to join us?" Richard called out. "Let's get this rehearsal started."

Prentis Hall, Columbia University. November 22, 2004. Monday morning.

Aidan, Richard, and Travis returned to their jobs on Monday morning. Their work was done. Today it was up to Neal to set the con in motion. He'd soon know if their work had paid off. In less than an hour he'd be off-grid.

Mozzie showed up promptly at eight o'clock. He would stay at Aidan's studio at Prentis and transmit the decoy signal while Neal was away. They'd decided on Prentis as the least risky of the options. Unlike Neal's own studio at Watson, anyone visiting Prentis would need to sign in. That would give Mozzie enough time to hide in the basement. They'd then have to cook up some tale about Neal working in another part of the building and missing the visitor notification. But the chance of someone from the FBI dropping in was slim. When Peter checked the tracker information, he wouldn't be surprised about Neal being in Prentis. By now Fowler would have found that NYPD wasn't in possession of the earrings. Peter would probably think Neal was simply taking advantage of the extra security at Prentis.

Neal planned to make use of the tunnels while on campus to elude anyone tailing him. His destination was the Chelsea Fencing Club, where he'd arranged to meet André, using his Gary Rydell alias.

"You know, this really isn't up to my standards," Mozzie complained, as he opened a large bag. "Aidan doesn't even have a wine rack. How can he work without the essentials of life?"

"I know what an imposition this is. I'm very appreciative."

"Fortunately, I came equipped." Mozzie pulled out a couple of bottles plus enough food to last the entire day.

"You do realize I'll be back within three hours, right?"

Mozzie chose to ignore that remark. "Did you talk with Richard?"

"Yes, he'll have my phone. When you call him, he'll come to the tunnel and alert me. You clear on the timing for this evening?"

"At 8:45 p.m. I'll turn on the emitter and you'll begin jamming your signal. That will give a sufficient overlap when you're still at your seminar."

"Yes and you won't be beyond range till 9:00 p.m."

"I have an appropriately convoluted route to take to Regnier's. Obfuscation will be my raison d'être."

"When I head for the tunnels—"

"Peter will be at home, monitoring. When he sees the signal, he will, of course, call the marshals and join the manhunt —"

"which Fowler will overhear. I expect Tramonte's told Fowler to keep him informed of my movements. Someone like Tramonte will want to verify that I'm at Regnier's tonight. His type is very predictable."

"Which tunnel will you use?"

"I've picked a location close to the library. So if the marshals look for me here, I'll be able to surface and meet them. Richard will be working at the library and will alert me if anyone shows up."

"Neal, this is brilliant. Almost as good as if I'd planned it myself. You have done well, grasshopper."

"I learned from the master," Neal said with a happy grin. "I'm sorry about your safe house though."

Mozzie brushed it off. "Don't worry about it. I was thinking that Friday had reached its expiration date anyway. I have a new one already picked out to replace it. How will you manage being in the tunnel for hours?"

"Not a problem. I'll take my laptop and work on my paper for Egyptian art. I figure the tomb-like setting will inspire me."

Neal took out the devices from a drawer and handed the emitter to Mozzie.

Mozzie looked at him wryly. "Nothing like on the job testing. I wish we could've had a trial run."

"It wasn't possible. Going off-grid even for a second would have given the marshals cause for suspicion."

"You ready?"

Neal took a breath. "Yeah. Let's do it." He held up the jammer while Mozzie put his finger on the cell phone power button. "With the chip Aidan put into the cell phone, when you turn it on, it should duplicate my anklet signal. Once I turn on the jammer, the signal the Marshals receive will be transmitted by your cell phone."

Mozzie nodded. "On your signal."

Neal pointed to Mozzie as he turned on the jammer. Aside from the power LEDs coming on for both devices, nothing happened.

"That was anticlimactic," Mozzie said, giving voice to both their feelings. "How do you know they're working?"

"I don't. Wish me luck."

"You'll be fine," Mozzie said confidently as he settled into a chair and pulled out a copy of The Scarlet Pimpernel.

Notes: Thanks to my awesome beta reader Penna Nomen for suggesting the title of the book Mozzie was reading. He's still looking for that perfect cape to finish off his ensemble, but in the meantime, the preparatory work is done and Neal's ready to go off-grid. The action picks up next week in Chapter 11: A Gascon and Cupid.