Chapter 14: Kidnapped

The Federal Building. Friday, September 9, 2005.

Peter assumed he was safe. He'd scheduled a review with Hughes on the upcoming budget for the afternoon. Given the stack of details he was prepared to discuss, the meeting could easily last the rest of the day. There was simply no time for any other activities. All that talk about disguises was probably just Neal razzing him. He wouldn't dare plan anything sneaky.

Peter paused at the entrance to Hughes's office. This was Neal. Of course, he was working on something sneaky.

And on a purely intellectual level, Peter could go along with there being a slight chance disguises would be needed. If they didn't catch Adler tonight, they'd attempt to draw him out of hiding in Europe. The fugitive had spent decades searching for a U-boat. After being fed the clues by Ruiz, his obsession must be all-consuming. Kidnapping would remain a real threat until he was behind bars. Adler could easily track their movements via Henry's watch. Neal and Henry argued that it was better to provoke him into action now than spend years wondering when he would strike again.

But Neal hadn't mentioned a word about disguises since their meeting at Henry's office. He knew Peter was a busy man with matters far more important than costumes to consider—like an afternoon of number crunching with Hughes.

But Peter had barely started on his second page of notes when his superior pulled the rug out from under him.

Glancing at his watch, Hughes shook his head regretfully. "Sorry to cut this short, but the assistant director called a meeting on me. I gather it's just as well. Caffrey alerted me that you also have an appointment. I'm surprised you didn't mention it. We could have rescheduled."

"I didn't know I had one," Peter admitted, wincing.

"An end-run maneuver? Given the nature of the appointment, it was a smart move."

As Peter stood up to meet his doom, Hughes said, "Oh, one last thing. I'm sure I don't need to remind you, what with your commendable attention to thorough documentation, but I fully expect to see photos included in the file." Hughes snorted a chuckle. "I wish I'd brought my camera to capture your expression right now."

Neal was perched on the edge of his desk, waiting for him in the bullpen, an innocent smile on his face. "Ready to be transformed?"

"You could have let me know."

"Would you have agreed?"

"Definitely not."

"I rest my case."

To save commuting time, Richard, who worked in the vicinity, had offered to meet them in the apartment he shared with Travis in the Village. Richard's boss, Ian Forster, was happy to accommodate the Bureau's request. Scima Gameworks apparently still felt guilty over the role they'd unwittingly played in Neal's virtual reality ordeal in Los Angeles. Neal could have sued them, and Peter suspected Mozzie had urged him to do so, but he hadn't. Neal's take was that the favors he'd accumulated by not pressing a lawsuit were more valuable.

During the short drive, Neal was in high spirits, dreaming up improbable disguises for Peter to wear. "Confess, haven't you always wanted to dress like a clown?"

Peter played along, suspecting Neal had seized on the topic as a technique to keep himself loose for the upcoming sting. The previous evening it was charades. Now it was costumes. Well, two could play that game. "Is this punishment for Diana's last story?" Peter challenged while keeping his eyes on traffic so Neal couldn't launch into any complaints about his driving.

"Whatever could you mean?"

"You know perfectly well the scene I'm referring to. Does your rendition of 'Blackbird' while our characters were trying to escape Sornoth's fortress ring a bell?"

"Hmm. Oh yes, I remember now. Diana did rather overplay the loopiness factor."

"I thought she showed admirable restraint."

"So you admit it! You told her about St. Louis."

"I confess to nothing, but I certainly have ample material. In addition to that performance, you've provided numerous other examples."

"What others?" Neal asked, his expression grown wary.

"Let's see . . . there was the time you were convinced I was a dinosaur and sang 'Up, Up and Away,' and who can forget you singing 'I Feel Fine' to El and me on the phone?"

Neal groaned. "Tell me you didn't mention these to Diana. Doesn't she already have enough material to blackmail me with?"

"It sounds to me like we're due for another pinky swear. In return for no more teasing on costumes, I'll restrain myself from sharing more examples."

Peter held out his right hand and Neal hooked fingers.

"You strike a hard bargain," Neal conceded. "Someone more devious than me might suspect a trap. Did you deliberately exaggerate your aversion to win the concession?"

If Neal wanted to see a hidden conspiracy, Peter didn't mind taking the credit. "Just reminding you who the puppetmaster is."

Neal smiled. "Touché . . . and I appreciate your willingness to go along." When he cleared his throat, Peter flicked him a quick glance. Gone was the teasing kid. He'd been replaced by a thoughtful adult. "When we go to Europe, we'll no longer be in control of the action. We'll need to be prepared to handle a multitude of options. It's reassuring to know that you'll be equipped to lead the cavalry without revealing your identity."

If Neal had phrased it that way at the beginning, Peter would have agreed without hesitation. Why was it that Neal insisted on making everything so complicated?

They were in luck and found a parking place on the same block as Travis's building.

"You'll feel this trip is worth it just to see the apartment," Neal said when he rang the buzzer at the front entrance. "You haven't been inside yet, have you?"

"The closest I've come is to drop Travis off," Peter admitted.

When they were buzzed up, they took the elevator to the fifth floor. Neal's hints left Peter curious about what the place was like. Travis owned his apartment in the co-op building. Richard had moved in about six months ago.

When the door opened, they were greeted by an apparent stranger. Peter stared at the transformation. "Travis? If this weren't your place, I wouldn't have recognized you."

"You're the first to see my disguise. Do you like it? I could hardly use my Vulcan ears for undercover work."

Travis now had a shock of hair heavily tinted with blond highlights. The hair on top was quite long and fell in front of his face. His nose had been altered and he had a short beard. It gave him a vaguely Viking appearance. It was a look he could work as a carpenter, longshoreman, or a man about town in a tuxedo.

Richard was standing behind Travis, grinning at the reaction.

"I'm feeling better," Peter admitted. "You can turn me into another Viking, and I'll be happy."

"Oh, but we can't have two look-alikes," a familiar voice protested, and El walked into the entry with Sara.

"Just how large a conspiracy is this?" Peter asked, faking a grumble.

"Sara's my hair stylist," Richard said, "and to have a satisfied customer, I know I'll need to have Elizabeth's approval."

"I was delighted when Richard called me," El said. "We've been discussing options for the past half hour."

"I'm surrounded by connivers," Peter muttered, but secretly he welcomed their involvement. For once, El wasn't being left out of the loop.

"Did you style Travis's hair?" Neal asked Sara.

"You like it?"

"He's rocking it."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say so. As I recall, you were less enthusiastic when I gave your hair highlights last year."

"That's different. Travis knew it was coming."

Sara had raised a sensitive subject. Peter remembered all too well Neal's moans and groans about her trick. Before he could let loose again, Peter cut in. "I hope I'm going to get the tour? I need to see the world you two created."

"Not just one world," Travis said with all the pride of the space nut he was. "Multiple. Each room is a different planet."

Pale washes of color evoked alien landscapes on all the walls of the apartment. The theme was also carried out on the ceilings which had been transformed into extraterrestrial skies. A few hints of the creatures Richard was so skilled in bringing to life could be seen peeking out from misty vistas and desertscapes. Furthest along was the kitchen which conjured up the windy sand dunes of the planet Vulcan.

The men were minimalist in their furniture with more worktables than chairs. Electronic gear co-existed with art and sculpture supplies. Richard had carved out a music niche for his guitar in the living room.

Richard led Peter into the kitchen for the transformation and had him sit on a bar stool. After seeing all the science fiction, Peter was in a better mood. He was simply disguising himself to be an alien. Nothing wrong with him indulging in a little fantasy, too.

"Do you have any preference?" Richard asked.

"I wouldn't mind a Viking look like Travis's," Peter admitted.

"How about with dark hair?" El suggested. "But with a beard like Travis?"

Sara was studying Peter intently, making him a little nervous. "Perhaps just a few highlights to soften the effect."

El's eyes brightened. "Definitely!"

"I feel your pain," Neal murmured.

"You complained for weeks when the highlights didn't wash out," Peter muttered back.

"But Sara will use a wig, so you won't have to worry."

"Won't the beard be hard to put on?" Peter asked, as Richard draped a cloth around him.

"I'm working on a new technique which simplifies application."

"It only takes me five minutes to transform myself," Travis said. "I don't need Richard's help to apply the makeup."

"But it will take time to prepare the beard," Richard warned, "plus I'll need to teach you the technique. Since you're leaving tomorrow, let's go with something simpler for now."

"I recommended something similar to Tom Selleck," El said. "He has your rugged good looks, and you've commented how you admire his mustache."

That was a little strong, but Peter restrained his growls. It could be worse. Selleck drove a Ferrari in Magnum, P.I. As long as El didn't insist on Hawaiian shirts, he wouldn't complain.

They settled on a nose piece which would be easy to apply, a wig, and mustache. While Richard made a mold of his nose, El asked Travis about their trip to New Orleans.

"Richard and I spent the weekend mucking out. That was a new term to me."

"And me too," Sara said. "What does it mean?"

"Basically ripping out everything from a house that got wet—not just the furniture and appliances but flooring, carpets, drywall, and insulation. That's to prevent mold from forming. Luckily Richard's parents weren't flooded but many of their friends were. They live in the Garden District, one of the oldest neighborhoods in New Orleans. Lots of small shotgun houses with rooms arranged one behind the other. The devastation is enormous. It will take years to rebuild."

"We were glad to do what we could," Richard said, "and it shows something good can come out of the worst tragedy. Dad came to see us while we were mucking out the house of one of his friends." He gave a rueful smile. "It's a start."

Travis looked at him with sympathy. "It's the first time his dad's spoken to him since Richard came out. Martin was gracious in his appreciation for what we were doing."

"People change," Peter commented. "Don't give up on Martin. Look at me. I never thought I'd wear another disguise. That has to prove there's hope for any transformation."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

The sting on Friday night was for the benefit of Adler and his gang. In many respects it was a carbon copy of the previous night when they arrested several Ydrus operatives. This time Diana leaked word to Ruiz about the upcoming op. She also divulged that she'd heard the warehouse was located in Brooklyn. They were confident that Adler would take advantage of Henry's bugged watch to pinpoint the location.

It was another waiting game to see who would fall into their net, and although Adler failed to appear, snaring Garrett Fowler was enough of a prize to have Neal smiling all night. It had been a year since Fowler used his position at the Office of Public Responsibility to frame him for a crime. Watching Fowler being led off in handcuffs went a long way to erase the lingering bitterness.

Fowler had brought along several thugs with him who would also enjoy the hospitality of the New York Department of Correction. Ruiz had been arrested at home as soon as Fowler was snagged.

Neal returned to the office the following morning mainly to hear about the results of the interrogation. They'd leave for Paris that evening. The next time Neal would be back at work was up in the air.

He was ticking off his emails when Henry entered the bullpen. Plopping into a chair, he asked, "What's the latest?"

It was a good feeling to no longer have to confer in secret. Kramer was on ice. The bullpen was once more friendly territory. Still not optimal. No pool table like Henry had. Neal took it as a reminder that his work wasn't done.

"When I arrived, Tricia and Peter were already questioning Fowler and Ruiz."

"Any reports yet on what if anything they coughed up?"

"Not so far. Tricia let Fowler stew in the Municipal Correctional Center overnight before starting in on him. You got your bags packed?"

"I'm ready."

"What did you tell Eric?"

"That I'm going away on business, and don't give me that look. I'm being completely honest."

"A business trip where we may be kidnapped? What if Adler decides to use Eric as an additional insurance policy?"

"The chances are minimal of that happening. There's a slight chance Adler would go after Mom. She's aware of the risk and is taking extra precautions. I've told Eric to be careful as well. He's got a GPS watch like Angela's wearing. You're lucky that you're not in a relationship with anyone."

Neal nodded. Sara wasn't aware of the strategy. She only knew they were leaving for Europe. He'd debated telling her but there didn't seem to be any point. Why make her worry?

"Adler and Kate are probably still in Albania," Henry said. "Man, I'd love to be a fly on the wall to hear his reaction! Does he believe the U-boat is real?"

"I bet he does. We were too smart to get trapped, and hid the art before the raid. I see you're still wearing the watch Adler bugged."

Henry smiled. "Adler has to be drawn out of hiding if we're to have any hope of capturing him."

"Nothing stupid, right?"

"You know who you sound like. Did Peter tell you that too?"

"Didn't need to. He knows who the smart one is." Neal nodded toward the entrance of the bullpen. Peter was walking through the doors.

Their crew leader rolled a chair over to sit beside them. "Should I be worried about what you two are scheming about?"

"Worried?" Henry broke into a confident smile. "Of course not."

Peter narrowed his eyes but didn't comment further. They'd sworn to keep everyone fully informed of their plans. Peter was demonstrating his trust. "We've finished the interrogations for now. We made the most progress with the men Fowler hired to help. One of them admitted under questioning that he helped Fowler kidnap Mozzie last April. We're using the abduction as leverage. Tricia and I took pleasure in informing Fowler that Mozzie can identify him as the ringleader. Now we have corroboration."

Neal smiled. "Sweet revenge. Fowler doesn't know Mozzie would never agree to be on the witness stand."

"Tricia will continue the work this afternoon," Peter said. "All the original charges against Fowler— conspiracy to commit fraud and falsifying evidence—still stand. In the first case, Fowler aided a man charged with murder. Tramonte has already made a plea bargain, and confessed to an earlier homicide burglary. Ruiz can be charged as an accessory as well. So far no one has incriminated Adler, but if we can get our hands on him, Tricia believes the others will eventually fold."

"How has Ruiz try to defend his actions?" Neal asked.

"It's as we suspected. Fowler mentored Ruiz when he started at the Bureau. The two maintained a close friendship. Ruiz insists that you were the cause of Fowler's downfall. He seems unaware of the extent of the charges against Fowler when he fled. Since Ruiz only kept him informed of your movements, he didn't believe he was doing anything incriminating. He claims he knew nothing about Mozzie's kidnapping, or the extent of Fowler's involvement with the Italian thief."

It wasn't a great feeling. Adler roped Fowler into framing Neal for the theft of the earrings. If Neal hadn't joined the FBI, Fowler might never have been approached. Ruiz would still have his job. And Kramer? He would likely never have agreed to work with first Bryan then Ydrus.

"Don't let this mess with your head," Henry urged quietly. "You're not responsible for their actions."

"Henry's right," Peter agreed. "With their attitudes, they would have taken advantage of the system in some other way if you hadn't been here."

Neal had grown used to Henry knowing what he was thinking. That Peter could too was a little disconcerting but also reassuring. "Thanks. I'm chalking this one up to one long con. I've been operating undercover to expose the corruption in the Bureau."

"Exactly," Henry said, approval in his eyes. "Or call it a variant of three-dimensional chess where we're playing with two opponents—Ydrus and Adler. For Adler, we've knocked out his bishop and knight—Fowler and Ruiz. We still have the king and queen to capture."

"I heard from Diana at the airport," Neal said. "She and Jones are on their way to Albania now. Travis and Mozzie have already left. By the time we fly over the Atlantic, Mozzie may be in Oberammergau." He cocked an eyebrow at them and grinned. "You ready to find some Nazi plunder?"

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

As Peter surveyed the two pirates clustered around Neal's desk in the bullpen, he was torn. The grown-up voice inside him advocated being the voice of reason. He had over ten years of service to the Bureau and was responsible for apprehending criminals while minimizing the risk to field agents.

Instead, he'd signed off for the three of them to paint large bullseyes on their chests while they ran off to Europe on a quest for plundered treasure. And he could feel the pirate blood rising in his own veins. The U-boat con, aka Operation Barbarossa, was concluded. It was time for Operation Treasure Hunt.

His mom, if she only knew, wouldn't be in the least surprised. She'd remind him Robert Lewis Stevenson's Treasure Island had been one of his favorite books as a child. Once their lives returned to normal—which in the odd moment Peter liked to think would eventually happen—keeping that spirit of adventure would be his challenge. To be at their top performance potential, all the team members needed to engage their inner pirate from time to time.

But another Stevenson story weighed even more heavily on his mind at the moment. It had also been a childhood favorite. Would fusing Kidnapped with Treasure Island lead to a happy ending?

"It's really the only sane course of action," Henry said calmly. "As long as Adler seeks refuge in countries with vague extradition laws who have officials susceptible to bribes, he'll never be captured. And that's not to stigmatize Argentina and Albania. There are regions in the U.S. where he could also escape notice for a long time."

Neal nodded agreement. "You and I lived off grid for years in the States and could have continued that way if we hadn't contacted your father. The aliases we had for Urban Legend were robust enough to last for decades. And we could have slipped into others just as easily."

Peter slung his feet on top of the desk, enjoying Neal's raised eyebrow at his action. He probably considered that his signature move, but move over, Caffrey. There was another pirate at the table. "Just so we're clear, what we're signing off on is to allow one or more of us to be kidnapped."

"Sounds good to me," Neal said cheerfully. "The key players—Klaus, Rolf, Python, and Adler—are still at large. A kidnapping conviction should put the perp away for a long time to come. The odds are in our favor that Adler will strike first. That gives us an additional advantage. The longer we can keep the dream of stashed art alive, the easier it will be to trap Ydrus."

"Most likely, the Mansfelds believe that there actually was a U-boat," Henry added. "All the groundwork we prepared about it still holds water. The Degas Neal forged was certified authentic by Sterling-Bosch. Kramer must have passed that on."

"Klaus is aware of Neal's skill though," Peter reminded him. "He could believe it's a forgery."

"True," Henry admitted. "But that won't change their thinking. The evidence from Huber's safe is too compelling. Klaus could easily believe Neal is holding onto the original while making multiple perfect copies of it."

"Now Rolf and Klaus want to deal themselves in," Neal added, moving his keyboard aside so he could swing his feet onto the desk in front of his monitor. "They're tracking our movements while biding their time."

"Their objective is to have you remain in New York and work for the Bureau while pursuing your degree," Henry theorized, snatching the far end of Neal's desk for his own feet. "It's the perfect front for the thefts and forgeries you'll be performing for them on the side. They have the Vermeer trigger they can play at any time, but they'd much rather see what happens to the U-boat story first. They may even jump in to protect you if they sense you're in danger."

"And that leaves the field open to Adler," Peter said. "He's kidnapped before. He'll do it again."

Henry nodded complacently. "I'm the most likely target. If Adler approaches me, I'll express my willingness to make a deal." He studied the ceiling for a moment. "I'm totally without scruples, always on the lookout for a new opportunity . . . Yep, that'll work. I can build on the reports Ruiz sent in about my dipping into the company till to pay for my extravagant lifestyle. After seeing how my father was corrupted by Win-Win, I have become cynical and don't mind in the least screwing my own company."

"You could even build on your conflicted feelings about your father," Neal suggested. "Adler is fulfilling his father's dream. You could be doing the same. Robert took advantage of Win-Win for his own purposes. You're simply following in his footsteps."

"Finally something useful is coming out of his misdeeds?" Henry's face darkened for a brief second. "I love it. The same could work for you."

"Like father like son?" Neal's chuckle had no humor in it. "I could refer to how my father was wronged. The system betrayed him. Now it's time for payback."

Henry and Neal wore nearly identical expressions, showing the scars of wounds which hadn't fully healed. Neal never talked about James. Had he meant what he said or was it simply a con to sell to Adler? Peter needed to have that conversation with him someday. His mother and Ellen were still in WITSEC. How much resentment was buried inside him, and who was it directed at?

Henry didn't respond to Neal's remark. He may have been too absorbed by his own unhappy memories to pay it much heed. "You and I will be the perfect recruits for Adler, but we shouldn't ignore the possibility that Adler may first strike at Peter to obtain leverage."

"Possible," Neal conceded, "but unlikely. Adler has no reason to think he could convert Peter. If he really wants us to work for him, he'll pick one of us as his target. My money's on Henry."

The odds-on favorite smiled. "How easy should I make it?"

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

After a smooth overnight flight from Paris, Neal checked himself, Peter, and Henry into their rooms at the Jeu de Paume hotel. Peter was growing used to the ambiance of flying first class. For the first time in recorded history, he actually slept on the plane. It was fortunate he had. There'd be no time for naps today. Even though it was Sunday, it was a work day.

Marcel Jauffret had offered to come to his office at National Police Headquarters to meet with them. Travis was already there, working with their tech staff. The real reason Travis was there he'd not revealed to his French counterparts, but Neal knew that by the time their plane touched ground, Travis already had his monitoring equipment in place.

When Neal checked his phone after landing, he found a text message from Mozzie. He was on site in Oberammergau. The chalet was occupied. He hoped to be able to peer in through the windows but so far curtains were obscuring his view. Mozzie was relying on his birdwatcher persona to mask his surveillance.

Neal and Peter's appointment was scheduled for noon. While they met with Marcel, Henry planned to touch base with Win-Win's French partners, Dufour Investigations. The small detective agency operated out of an office on the Right Bank close to Les Halles. As far as their partners were concerned, the group was investigating rumors about the missing masterpieces. That they were making sitting ducks of themselves in the process had not been divulged.

Marcel had a small untidy office at police headquarters. Art books and crime manuals shared space in the bookcase with photographs from his days of playing soccer. He'd brought in a couple of metal chairs for their use and placed them opposite his desk.

The last time they'd met face to face, Marcel had been skeptical of the existence of an undiscovered art cache. No longer. Once Mozzie deciphered the coded document, Peter had called him with the good news. So far Marcel had only shared the details with his superior officer. No one wanted to risk a leak.

"I've marked all the train routes the Nazis used during the war," Marcel said, gesturing to a large map spread out on his desk. "The lines go through Nancy, Troyes, and Dijon. There are several locations which had been favorite Resistance targets, particularly the bridges."

"According to the document we deciphered, the art was going to the Altaussee salt mines," Peter said, pointing on the map to the small town east of Salzburg.

Marcel nodded. "That's one of the most heavily traveled lines. It runs through Munich."

"Are there any records of the Resistance hiding art in the region?" Neal asked.

"I couldn't find any," Marcel admitted, "but the fighters could have been killed before they were able to inform anyone. Massacres of Resistance agents were routine. Over a hundred were executed in Besançon alone. That city was a center for the Resistance and could have provided the fighters. Perhaps a cave was used to store the paintings. There are numerous caves throughout the Jura Mountains in eastern France. It would have to be a small cave or mine shaft which isn't open to the public to escape discovery all these years. And as for the condition of the art after such a long time. . ." He executed a slow Gallic shrug.

Neal was counting on the best case scenario. Isabelle's friend René knew the value of the paintings and would have advocated for someplace dry and weatherproof. Bergmann must have thought their location was secure or he would have moved them. And perhaps he had.

"Have there been any inquiries about the Vermeer painting?" Peter asked.

"Only one," Marcel said. "It was a Belgian art historian. We had him checked out. He's legitimate. He was allowed to view Neal's forgery and didn't raise any questions."

Neal's cell phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket to read the message, expecting it to be from Henry. But that was not to be.

Neal supposed he should feel relieved they'd predicted the event correctly, but it still caused his stomach to clench. The clock had just taken a gigantic leap forward.

"What is it?" Peter asked in an undertone.

"It's from Dubois. Henry didn't arrive at their office and he's not answering his phone."

Peter nodded, his lips tightening. "It's the logical gambit, but that doesn't make it any easier to hear."

"Would someone care to explain what's going on?" Marcel demanded, sounding aggrieved, "and please don't tell me this is yet another secret."

Neal didn't fault Marcel for his frustration, but left it to Peter to explain who Henry was and how they intended to smoke Adler out into the open. Although it could be Ydrus who'd kidnapped Henry, the fugitive hedge fund manager was much more likely. Henry had been wearing the watch which contained Adler's tracking device ever since he left his loft the previous evening. For someone with Adler's resources, he was an easy mark.

While Marcel vented about the idiocy of their plan, Neal attempted to contact Henry and had the expected futile results. Henry was now forty-five minutes late. By now, Adler could have hustled him onto a plane. He could be anywhere.

When Peter called Travis, he was already on his way to meet with them. Henry's cell phone was broadcasting a signal from the Tuileries Garden while his pen registered a location on the Rue de Rivoli. They couldn't both be right.

Marcel dispatched detectives to search both sites, using the coordinates Travis supplied them. They then regrouped in a conference room which Marcel appropriated as an ad hoc command center.

"Henry followed all the safety protocols we'd established," Travis reported. "He called me when he left the hotel and sent me a photo of the taxi's license information at the start of his trip."

"The cab driver may have been uninvolved," Marcel noted. "An accident could have been staged which forced him to stop. The route between your hotel and the detective agency is a short one. We may be able to find a witness."

Marcel's prediction proved accurate. The cab driver was located. He reported that they'd gotten caught in a traffic jam on the Rue de Rivoli. With traffic at an impasse, Henry paid the fare and exited the cab, saying he'd walk the rest of the way on foot. He must have been seized on the street. His pen was found in the curb.

Police detectives found Henry's cell phone at the base of a marble statue in the Tuileries garden. The famous statue depicted Cain in a state of remorse, his face covered by one of his hands. For a moment Neal's belief wavered. Could this be an Ydrus ploy after all? Was the symbolism of a man racked with guilt from having killed his brother a message from Adler or a reminder from Rolf of how Neal had betrayed Klaus?

Neal zoned out the flurry of activity around him. Focus. Who was it? Rolf usually accompanied acts with a message of some sort, but there had been nothing this time . . . so far. No card of a Lovecraft monster.

"You continue to think it's Adler?" Peter asked. He must have the same concerns.

"Broad daylight? Yeah, I do," Neal said. "Rolf would have included some bizarre reference to water. Henry's phone would probably have been dropped into a reflecting pool. This reminds me of how Mozzie was snatched off a street."

"Fowler made use of mafia members in New York," Peter said and turned to Marcel. "Does the Albanian mafia have much of a presence in Paris? We have reason to suspect Adler established himself in that country."

Marcel considered for a moment. "If Adler had affiliated himself with the Albanian mafia, most likely they'd provide him with Serbian contacts. We have several members of the Serbian mafia on our database. I can run a check."

Peter notified Jones. They were now on location in Albania and would watch for any traffic going in or out of the estate. The French would continue to search, but Neal had little hope they'd find anything. So far no witnesses had been found to the abduction.

They all knew what the next step would be. It was simply an issue of timing. Travis performed a system's check on Neal's watch to verify it was operating correctly.

Afterward Neal stood up. "I think I'll make a coffee run."

Marcel looked up. "The breakroom is down the hall."

"Thanks, but I'd like to get some fresh air." And give Adler a chance to pick me up.

Peter frowned at his words but didn't try to stop him. He knew it was Neal's turn at bat.

Notes: Henry has been kidnapped and now Neal is inviting Adler to do the same. Peter's gut may never be the same. Next week in Chapter 15: Sunrise in Bavaria, an uninvited foe complicates the situation still further. Under the circumstances, it's not a surprise that Peter's attempt to relax into pirate mode isn't very successful. I've written about his challenges for the blog. The post is called "Role-playing Games."

Neal singing while loopy from drugs has a long history in Caffrey Conversation. The classic moment that inspired the references was in the season one episode "Vital Signs" when Neal sang "Love Is a Many Splendored Thing." In our series, Penna started the tradition in St. Louis with the first story, Caffrey Conversation, where Neal sang "Little Drummer Boy." My first story to feature a loopy Neal was in The Golden Hen. "Up, Up and Away" and "I Feel Fine" were in An Evening with Genji. "Blackbird" was in Cinereous Skies.

Sara tinted Neal's hair in Caffrey Disclosure. The possibility exists that Neal and Sara staged their remarks about hair for El's benefit to demonstrate that they were just pals. It would have been just like them.

Peter's Tom Selleck look is an Easter egg to the mustache he had in the flashback episode "Forging Bonds." At the time El advised him to lose the mustache, calling him Magnum. Richard's version is much more flattering.

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