Chapter 10: Spiders
The Federal Building. Wednesday, August 31, 2005.
Sara tapped the elevator button for the eighteenth floor. It was her first time to visit the Organized Crime floor. Hughes had directed her to go to their video conference room. Ostensibly he'd chosen the location to minimize the risk of Neal spotting her. It would also make Diana's task easier. Ruiz was a member of the Organized Crime team. As special agent in charge, he might have seen the reservation request or a fellow agent could have commented on it. When Diana mentioned Hughes and Kramer working together, Ruiz would have corroborating evidence.
The previous day Hughes met Sara in her office at Sterling-Bosch, where they rehearsed their script. Sara had never worked with Peter's boss before this assignment. He reminded her of Graham Winslow, a man whom she'd discovered hid the heart of a buccaneer beneath a crusty exterior. She suspected Hughes in his younger days had a taste for being a pirate as well.
According to the scenario she and Neal had devised, Sara sneaked into the loft on Sunday evening and caught him and Kate in a compromising situation. She wouldn't share all the details with Hughes—certainly not how Kate grabbed for the sheet while Neal reached for his fedora to cover the crown jewels. Sara imagined herself breathing fire at the sight while trying not to be swept up by what Neal looked like. She was soooo ready for herself and Neal to be the ones in bed.
She shook herself. Back to the task at hand. Neal had slipped on a silk robe and escorted Sara onto the terrace while Kate dressed. He told her he hadn't enjoyed a minute of it—hah!—but Kate demanded his attention. Neal pleaded that since Kate controlled Adler's purse strings, he had no choice but to satisfy her.
Sara would tell Kramer that eventually—after much persuading and professions of love by Neal—she'd pretended to accept his story. Neal spent Monday night with her trying to convince her that his passion for her was real. Yet another scene Sara intended to gloss over.
Was there anything better than make-up sex? Sara sighed inwardly. Or any kind of sex with Neal?
She clamped down on her hormones and reviewed her script as she rode the elevator up. She'd spare Kramer and Hughes the salacious details but let them know in no uncertain terms that Neal's body might have been up to the challenge but his heart wasn't. A woman can always tell.
Sara would inform Kramer she acted as if she hadn't noticed anything different, and Neal suspected nothing. But that night, she'd had it. As far as Sterling-Bosch was concerned, Sara was acting undercover—often literally—for their benefit. Henry and Mozzie thought Neal had seduced Sara in order to obtain her company's list of clients and they'd believe he was succeeding. But she was now a woman scorned. It was with great satisfaction that she'd take her revenge on all of them, and especially Neal.
Hughes was waiting for her at the elevator bank on the eighteenth floor. They lingered to talk before moving into the video conference room.
"Is Ruiz around?" she murmured.
He nodded. "I came down early to inspect the equipment for the video conference. Travis is handling the transmission." Video conferencing was not available at Sterling-Bosch yet. This would be Sara's first experience using the system.
"Diana told me Ruiz has asked her out to lunch today."
His lips twitched with a soft snort. There was a mischievous gleam in his eye which reminded her of Graham. It made her wonder if he had grandchildren he could tease. "He's itching for the latest dirt. I'd reserved the room yesterday afternoon after returning from Sterling-Bosch. He must have found out." He led her down the hallway to the small conference room.
Travis was testing the signal when they walked in. "The equipment's cleared for your use, sir, whenever you're ready."
Hughes grunted acknowledgment. "Find any bugs?"
He nodded. "There was one under the table. It's been deactivated, and I've already tested the room for signal interference. An encryption program will run during the conference to prevent the feed from being hacked."
Draconian measures for extraordinary times. Sara would be informing Kramer about Kate's involvement with Neal. It was vital for the con that Adler learned nothing about it.
Hughes and Sara sat side by side facing the camera. The feed from D.C. was displayed on a wall-mounted monitor. Sara had never met Kramer. His mild folksy manner made it difficult to believe he was up to his neck in subterfuge.
In his introductory remarks, Kramer was profuse in his appreciation for Sara's actions. "This must be very difficult for you. You used to work on Henry's team at Win-Win. You were a personal friend to Neal."
"Thank you for understanding, sir. It gives me no pleasure, but once I discovered Neal's history, I realized that this day would come." It galled Sara to see Kramer nod approvingly. She was using the same lines on him that he'd argued to Peter and was stroking his ego in the process. "Mr. Bosch asked me in March if I'd be comfortable spying on Neal. We talked it through and I recognized it was the right thing to do. When I heard that you'd flagged Neal as a person of interest after the theft of the Raphael painting in D.C., I knew my duty was clear. Neal is an expert con artist and thief. He has no need for firearms because his charm makes him an even more dangerous enemy. Against such an opponent I was the best candidate."
Hughes turned to face her. "We owe you a debt of gratitude for your assistance."
"This is what I do," Sara said simply.
Hughes had already sent Kramer the photos of Neal and Kate that Jones had taken, as well as a copy of the video Sara had given Hughes the previous morning. Yesterday was the first day Kramer had heard about the U-boat. Hughes had filled him in on the scheme which was supposedly based on the evidence Sara had provided.
Kramer barked a short laugh. "I still find it incredible that they actually salvaged a U-boat. Clearly they're smart guys. Why on God's earth would they be idiotic enough to make a birthday video with the loot?"
Sara sighed deeply, adding emphasis to display the degree to which she was fed up with Neal's games. "You have to understand, sir, Neal and Henry don't think like normal people. I've been cozying up to Neal since March, gradually stripping off his layers of distrust. Henry and Neal are two peas in a pod. They'd do anything for each other. Unknowingly, they played right into my hands. As an example, Henry decided last summer I'd be the perfect match for Neal. That made my task that much simpler." Kramer could infer what he liked. Had she actually fallen for Neal or had she simply pretended to? He likely believed she'd convinced herself of the latter.
Travis flicked her a quick glance at her last remark. Did he suspect that bit was true? She'd adlibbed the comment. "The two of them have been operating scams since they were teenagers. It's become second nature. I could go on about the lack of positive father figures when they were growing up, but what's the point? They're been at it so long that they're beyond redemption." She allowed a little bitterness to drip into her voice. It wouldn't have been believable otherwise. Neal and Henry were too charming for her not to feel any remorse.
Kramer appeared to believe her. She took a drink of water as if to calm her nerves and acted relieved to let Hughes take over.
"Caffrey and Winslow have been designing elaborate birthdays for each other for years. As I mentioned yesterday, Graham Winslow contacted me, concerned about the negative influence Caffrey was having on his grandson. I've been leading him to believe that we feel Neal is the ringleader. That way he's been forthcoming with the evidence he's discovered."
"Smart move," Kramer acknowledged. "Do you intend to give Henry immunity?"
Hughes snorted his contempt for the idea. "Hardly, but he may wind up with a reduced sentence. We want to maintain good relations with Winston-Winslow. I'm willing to go easy on a grandson who up to now was on the path to becoming CEO."
Kramer nodded. "I agree. Caffrey is the rot which must be eradicated. If it weren't for him, Henry wouldn't have turned. Henry's mother is on the board of directors. His grandfather is the former CEO. Both of them will be much more favorably inclined to the Bureau if we exercise restraint. Henry's indiscretions up to the present instance have been minor. There's a good chance he can be rehabilitated. It pains me to say it, but Caffrey is not salvageable. Incarceration is the only solution."
"We'll need hard evidence to convince Peter, though," Hughes warned. He turned to Sara. "Don't take this the wrong way, but nothing you've told us is convincing evidence. For all we know, Caffrey and Winslow could have been playing an elaborate prank on you. You haven't seen any of the art."
"Reese is right," Kramer added. "You were blindfolded when they took you to the warehouse. You don't know where it is. We have to catch them with the art."
"Or sell one of the works," she pointed out.
"Do you have proof?" Kramer demanded. If he were a spaniel, he'd be pointing.
"I think I can obtain it," she said. "They've been working with a Nazi shipping manifest Neal stole from a home on Long Island last winter. The manifest lists several of the missing paintings which were on the U-boat." The actual manifest had been in White Collar's possession since February, but it had never been shared with D.C. Art Crimes.
"Can you get a copy of the manifest?"
"I believe I can, and not only that. Earlier this week Neal decided to sell one of the paintings—a work by Degas called Harlequin and Columbine. It's on the list."
Kramer frowned. "Caffrey's not stupid. Why would he make such a rash move? You said Winslow made the deal with Adler when he was in Argentina last month. Adler's providing the funds for the salvage. This doesn't make sense."
"There's something we're missing," Hughes agreed, chiming in on cue. "Graham reported he was first alerted to the gravity of the situation when Henry started doctoring the company books. I can see where Winslow might have needed a bridge sum but the funds should be flowing now."
Sara shook her head. "You don't understand Neal and Henry. They never grew up. Now they're kids in a toy store and they want it all." Crossing her arms on the table to lean forward, she added conspiratorially, "And I have the proof."
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"I wish you could have seen Kramer's expression when I mentioned the sailing yacht," Sara said. "He looked like one of those fish with the big bulging eyes."
"Pufferfish?" Neal suggested helpfully. "Or perhaps one with sunken cheeks." He made smacking sounds over the phone. Sara laughed as she pictured him making a fish face.
"From now on, Kramer shall be known as Pufferfish Phil."
When she returned to her office at Sterling-Bosch, she texted Neal to call her when it was safe to talk. She'd picked up a salad on the way back to work for lunch and was eating it when he called.
"I'll be able to judge for myself," Neal said. "I'm sure Travis will want me to watch the feed, but I'll have to wait till tomorrow. I'm stuck on van duty all day today. Badillo finally took pity on me and let me take a lunch break. For now, I'll just have to imagine Kramer's smug smirk when you praised him for making me a person of interest."
Neal might think reviewing the video was a good idea, but not her. She had no desire for him to watch her trashing him. But if she objected, he might misread it and think she wasn't confident in their relationship. Sara restrained herself to a caution. "Hughes and I were piling on the manure with a shovel. Wear your armor when you listen."
"Thanks for the warning," he said, chuckling. "If it gets too bad, I can console myself with Bianka."
She winced. Unknowingly he'd just retaliated in advance. "Have you talked with her?"
"Yesterday. We're going out tonight."
"Someplace public, I hope?"
"You're not worried, are you?"
"Of course not, but you mentioned she was aggressive. I wouldn't want a valuable team member to wind up with battle scars."
"Relax. We're meeting at a restaurant. I've already made arrangements with Henry for a rescue call."
"Who else do you have on your phone bank of saviors?"
"Peter, El, June, the other team members. In addition, Richard and Aidan have volunteered. The Three Musketeers are ready for another adventure. Since they're both at Columbia in the evening, I can count on them to drop in at the most inconvenient times. Aidan's been itching for an excuse to schedule more fencing practice."
Neal had told her how Richard and Aidan had pitched in during Fowler's frame attempt last autumn. She was feeling better by the moment.
"I also told my cousin Angela. She'll likely see me and Bianka on campus and wonder what's happening. She and her boyfriend Michael offered to help. Mozzie and his pet rat Percy can always be called on for an emergency lift. I can guarantee I'll be a frustrated lover."
Sara cringed at the term, and before she embarrassed herself, switched topics. "I saw Diana briefly. She's having lunch with Ruiz. The script has her meeting with Jones beforehand in the file vault to discuss your criminal ways. Hughes had relayed my evidence to Jones who considered it his duty to warn her about you. Diana said she played the loyal team member, skeptical of your duplicity. That's when he told her about the Degas. I expect Adler will be hearing about it shortly."
"I'm glad you told me. I'll know the cause when my ears turn scarlet."
She smiled. "You better get back to that plum assignment before someone else steals it away."
Ending the call, she reached into her desk drawer for the file on the antique gallery theft—her current Sterling-Bosch assignment. But after a few minutes it was obvious that stolen silver wouldn't provide much solace. Sara retreated to the breakroom to make a cup of tea. She needed herbal soothing. Being a fake girlfriend had its thrills. Pretending to be Kate had been surprisingly passionate, although she'd worried how much of it was due to her resemblance to Kate. Neal said it wasn't, but was he just being kind?
Their chemistry at Riffs was undeniable, but she'd been masquerading as Alicia. How much of Neal's interest in her was due to the game they'd invented? Once the game stopped, what then?
The flaw in their Clueless con was that there was too much role-playing. Did he think of her as Alicia or Miss Scarlet? When was there time for Sara?
Now Neal was supposed to seduce another woman. And not just any random coed. Sara had seen Bianka. The woman could have stepped off the cover of Cosmopolitan. She exuded sexuality out of every pore. Neal's trouble was he was too good a shapeshifter. How far would he go? He wouldn't want to, of course, or not much . . . But still . . . Shouldn't they be allowed to have three dates before he had to pretend to be in love with yet another woman?
Sara hadn't given Fiona enough credit for how well she'd handled seeing Neal and Raquel together at the Met Museum. Sure it was a con, but it was a damned good one. The two of them kissing in the Hatshepsut gallery . . . Neal gazing passionately at Raquel. Her smoldering eyes could have set papyrus on fire. Fiona had been shocked, stunned, and furious. It hadn't been easy for Sara to talk her down from impaling Neal with one of those ceremonial spears on the wall. At the time, Sara thought that Fiona would easily recognize Neal and Raquel had staged the performance. He didn't know that she and Fiona were there. It wasn't his fault. Rationally speaking, Neal was perfectly justified, but that meant little to Fiona. Back then Neal was corralled in Sara's friend zone. She didn't permit herself to think about him romantically. If he pulled the same trick on her now . . . but that's exactly what he was about to do.
This time it was even worse. Raquel had known it was a con. She was an old friend of Neal's. Bianka was on the prowl, no doubt salivating at having her way with him. A trained seductress eager to take possession of Neal and make him her slave.
And now Neal had a goddess with her hooks into him too. Wouldn't that make him want to get as much pleasure as he could out of life? Bianka was a black widow spider. Sara knew it.
Why hadn't she told Neal to include her in his list of excuse-providers? She was much more dependable than anyone else. Would Neal tell her what went on during the dates? Hardly. He'd want to shield her. Maybe he'd be embarrassed. She knew he wouldn't want to give into Bianka's charms, but sometimes black widow spiders struck their victims before they had a chance to resist.
Damn . . . damn . . . damn . . .
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"What do you know about Alicia?" Henry demanded.
El held the phone away from her face to take a deep breath. She and her assistant Yvonne were supposed to be making the final touches for the reception that evening at the Cecile Art Gallery. Not on the agenda was conducting an emergency matchmaker consultation.
El took a moment to survey the gallery. Mozzie's girlfriend Janet had held a costume exhibition here last winter and had recommended her to the owner. She'd already managed two events for the gallery which in turn sparked additional referrals. Combining her love for art with her event-planning business was a long cherished dream. Not even matchmaking was as important.
But everything seemed to be on track. Maggie Feng from the Aloha Emporium was setting out living orchid arrangements among the sculptures. Chef Jacques from La Palette wasn't due to arrive for a half-hour.
Yvonne nodded at her and gestured toward a chair in the corner. Mouthing a silent thank you, El retreated to talk with her indignant conspiracy partner.
"I've never heard Neal mention her," she admitted. "When Peter told me about Bianka and Neal's date with Alicia, I asked Peter if he knew anything about her."
"Did he seem suspicious of the question?"
El chuckled. "He would have been if I hadn't asked. Peter teases me about how protective I am of Neal. Now that Bianka appears to be an evil schemer, naturally I'd be concerned."
"Exactly."
El heard a hollow staccato thumping and smiled. Peter had told her about Henry's Zen huddle room at his office. It was soundproof and contained Indian hand drums on the table. By the sound of Henry's drumbeat, he should spend more meditation time there.
"How do we know if Alicia is any better?" Henry said between thumps. "We're running a double con. We could be challenged on multiple fronts. Is Alicia Adler's agent? Her name starts with an A."
"As does Azathoth," she agreed, "but don't you think it's premature to brand anyone whose name starts with an A as a villain? What would that make of your cousin Angela?"
"There are dark forces at work," he growled, not apparently swayed.
"Have you learned anything more about Bianka?"
"Nothing new. She's an orphan. Grew up with foster parents. It's difficult to question her friends because we don't want to alert anyone we're onto her. The woman she was with, Joanna Abbot, is thirty-six according to her passport. That makes her thirteen years older."
"Another A?"
"You're right. That's more evidence against her. Neal thinks Klaus picked the alias. Was he referencing Azathoth? Now I'm seeing Azathoth everywhere I look." The thumps became even more staccato.
"Have you learned anything more about Joanna?"
"Her credentials are impeccable. She's a buyer for a large antique gallery in London. Since her business involves frequent travel, it's possible she leads a second life, but we have no proof of it so far. Hobhouse has ordered surveillance on her house."
"Peter showed me the photos Diana took." In a normal case, Peter wouldn't have shared the evidence. But since the Mansfelds had targeted family members and friends, the White Collar team members had been given permission to alert their significant others. "There was something about the eyes which reminded me of Bianka's photo. You know that Tricia's husband, Mitch, is an anthropologist?"
"Yeah, did Tricia ask him for an opinion?"
"She did. Mitch agreed there were similarities in the bone structure which suggest they could be related."
"Cousins perhaps or even sisters. Win-Win doesn't have any contacts in Hungary and our facial recognition software is only being used by France on the continent. I wish I knew what nationality Alicia was."
Again with Alicia. Did he have a new obsession? Was that what Neal expected? Surely he realized that by not confiding in Henry, he only served to egg him on. Was that what Neal wanted? The cousins did enjoy pranking each other.
"Alex! That has to be it!" Henry gave a sharp rap to the drum.
"Who's Alex?"
"Someone Neal dated a while ago." His voice trailed off for a moment. "I don't know much about her. Neal only mentioned her a couple of times. I think he met her in Europe. He could be using Alicia as an alias for Alex."
Henry exhaled, the sound muffling the drum taps. "Tomorrow we're scheduled to reshoot some of the scenes for the video. I may know more then, but I'm about ready to toss in the matchmaking towel. The way Neal was kissing Alicia, I don't know why I bother."
"When Neal was working undercover with Keller, he was obsessed over Fiona's safety. From what you've said, he's not concerned about Sara's participation. Does that mean she's not his type?"
"He could have more confidence in her, but you bring up a good point. With Adler and Ydrus circling the waters, even if Neal were interested in Sara, he might not try to date her. On top of everything else, he has that curse weighing on his mind. There doesn't seem to be any point to continue the conspiracy."
"I think it's too soon to decide. Both Neal and Sara have sent in suggestions for their characters in Diana's next story. From what she's shared with me, they want to see the romance between Arkham Neal and Sara continued."
"Huh." For a minute all El heard was the sporadic tapping of the drum. Otherwise she might have wondered if her phone had dropped the signal.
"Is Neal living vicariously for what he can't have?" Henry suggested when he came back on the line. "There may be hope, after all. He's playing the field for now because he has no choice. Once the con is over and if he can just free himself from that curse, he'll seek Sara out."
"By then it may be too late," El warned. "Don't forget Sara's seeing someone else."
"Yeah, but it might not last. Matthew could turn out to be another Bryan. It's also possible she senses Neal's not interested in dating anyone seriously but doesn't want to give up on him."
"Have you ever considered that she may have invented Matthew to keep the pressure off Neal?" El asked. "That's what I might do in her situation."
Silence on the other end indicated Henry hadn't factored in the possibility. When he came back on, his tone was jubilant. "I bet you're right! Matthew is simply a smokescreen so Neal won't bolt. We have to be careful not to reveal we suspect anything. I'll work on this overnight and call you tomorrow with a fresh game plan."
El smiled. Was Henry driving Eric crazy with his machinations? Did Eric even know about it? "Neal's coming to our house for Labor Day. Peter plans to fire up the grill. Barbecue ribs are on the menu. Why don't you and Eric join us?"
"Thanks, but Eric's parents have asked us over."
"Have they already met you?"
"This will be the first time. It will be a large family gathering with Eric's siblings, uncles, their kids . . . I gather his family is almost as large as the Winslow clan. And you don't need to say it. That's what I should be stressing about, not Neal."
At least he admitted it.
Adler's Villa on the Albanian Riviera. Thursday, September 1.
"Madam, should I delay dinner?"
Kate glanced at the closed study door. Garrett had already been closeted with Vincent for over half an hour, but there was no sign of their discussion drawing to a close. She turned to Teodor. "Yes, that would be best. Please tell Irina to wait an hour before serving."
"Very good, madam." Teodor bowed stiffly and retreated.
Teodor with his starched shirts and suits was an old-school butler. He made no attempt to disguise his sniff of disapproval at dinner being delayed. But Vincent liked the idea of a majordomo to run the household. And the fact that Teodor also commanded their bodyguards with the discipline of Patton didn't hurt.
Kate relaxed into the chaise lounge and resumed reading Vogue Italia. Vincent had promised her they could go to Fashion Week in Milan this year . . .
She'd just finished writing a note about one of Alberta Ferretti's designs when Garrett opened the door. "Would you like to join us?" He looked as pleased as when he'd returned home with the Braque. Kate's mind leaped ahead to guess the cause. Did they have verification of the U-boat?
Vincent was sitting at his desk in the study. The contemporary Italian piece was a recent acquisition which Kate had purchased in Rome. Julius Caesar couldn't have looked more triumphant.
Kate took a seat in the olive leather barrel chair by the picture window while Garrett filled her in on Ruiz's report. Not only had Neal and Henry recovered the sub but they'd already started to sell off the art. The speed at which they were working was breathtaking. Kate imagined what Neal must have looked like when he pried open the hatch and found all those crates of priceless art. How she wished she could have been present!
"We can't wait any longer," Vincent declared. "Ruiz's snitch found out that the head of Art Crimes, Philip Kramer, will be in New York next week. They aim to raid the warehouse and catch Neal and Henry red-handed." He explained about an insurance agent who was spying on the cousins.
Kate had a moment of pity for Neal. He was being played yet again. When would he ever learn? Was it his tragic flaw that he never would? She derived no pleasure from the way she'd manipulated him for Vincent's sake. She liked her sweet-talking con man. They made quite a team. They could be again, if she could only convince him. She'd first have to reignite his ardor, but as smitten as he'd been with her before, she was confident she'd be able to win him over.
Vincent and Garrett disagreed over which one of the cousins to abduct. Kate's preference was for Neal, but Vincent was inclined to snatch Henry. He was confident that Neal had only given his cousin the minimum of information, so Henry would make a better hostage. More to the point in Kate's mind was that Vincent felt more comfortable working with Neal than Henry. He believed Neal still held him in high regard even though Vincent had absconded with practically all of Neal's savings.
Vincent suspected that his action had only made Neal respect him more and perhaps he was right. After all, Neal was attempting to run a long con on him at the time. Vincent simply demonstrated who the superior player was. Kate had wondered if the Braque payment he'd made to Neal was an advance—meant to soften the sting and prime him for a future offer. Whether or not she was right, she could make a case for it.
She'd need to convince Neal that Vincent was doing him a favor. If he'd only let Vincent take the art off his hands, Neal would be rewarded handsomely. He could continue to live in New York—even work at the FBI if that's what he wanted—while being subsidized by Vincent.
Garrett would leave for New York in a couple of days. He already had his people on call. Kate could tell Vincent longed to return to New York with him. For the necessary security arrangements to be ready on time, he'd have to decide soon.
Notes: Sara is particularly sensitive to the female villains targeting Neal. She has to pretend to be one herself. Sara is the subject of this week's blog post: "Sara's Dilemma." There are a few echoes in this chapter to the canon version of Sara who testified against Neal during his trial. Fortunately, this time it's a con. Meanwhile, Kate's conning herself as she fantasizes about her future life with Neal back working for Adler. Henry suspects Neal may be conning him about Alicia, but he doesn't have anything to go on. Progress will be made on many fronts in next week's chapter: Along the Gumdrop Path.
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
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