Chapter 14: A Tale of Two Paintings

Aloha Emporium. July 19, 2005. Tuesday morning.

Always in the past when Neal descended the backstairs at the emporium, his objective was Mozzie's bunker. He'd eyed the sparring mats and the martial arts gear with curiosity and a trace of envy. They were regalia to a world he'd been denied admission.

But not today.

Neal arrived at the shop after his morning therapy session. Maggie was at the florist station helping a customer. She stopped to greet him and said they were waiting for him downstairs. They? Was this to be a group lesson?

Not quite.

In the basement he saw he was to have not one but two kung fu masters—yin and yang. Billy was clad in a white martial arts uniform. Mozzie was all in black. Compared with them, Neal felt like an interloper in his jeans and t-shirt.

Billy's smile was as genial as ever, even if Mozzie did insist on assuming a frozen stance, his arms projecting outward like the wings of a crane . . . or a vulture. Was there such a thing as vulture kung fu? If there was, Mozzie had it nailed. On a stand in the center of the room was the tiger-patterned orchid Billy had shown Neal earlier.

"You're not pulling my leg, are you?" asked Neal warily, eyeing the flower.

"No," Billy replied, "but with Mozzie as my disciple, it's a natural question. You may wonder why I agreed to take you on. Mozzie explained what happened. You've lost your way, and it's up to us to put you on the right path."

"The Way of the Orchid?" Neal asked, letting a trace of his skepticism show. "I'm all for learning how to defend myself. I haven't been doing a particularly good job of that lately. I took your advice when you counseled me to imitate an orchid by faking an injury with the yakuza, but that wouldn't have helped in San Diego. Flowers are passive and that won't work in all situations."

Billy nodded agreement. "Like flowers, kung fu relies primarily on defensive techniques. Certain situations, however, require us to take the offense, and that is where the Way of the Orchid comes in." He walked over to the tiger orchid and picked up a photo which was lying next to it. "What do you think of this?"

Neal studied the image. "Unusual orchid. Lovely fuchsia veins . . ." Neal peered closer. "What is that? A second orchid?"

"Not quite. That's an orchid mantis, a superb example of mimicry."

Billy was right. It was hard to believe the rose and ivory creation was an insect.

"The orchid mantis blends perfectly with the flower, disguising its ability as a warrior. You, my friend, need to do the same."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

By the end of the lesson Neal couldn't see that he'd made much progress in becoming either an orchid or an orchid mantis. Billy spent the entire session on taiji. Neal had often seen the discipline practiced in parks, but Billy used the method espoused in competitions. As Neal practiced the positions, Mozzie demonstrated them in his own unique style, adding flourishes no Chinese master would have ever incorporated.

Neal found that slowing himself down enough to perform the movements correctly was an impossible task. Billy appeared satisfied, however, claiming that until his qi was healed he couldn't expect to do better. Great. It wasn't enough that he had to stop the war going on in his head. He now needed to nursemaid an ailing qi.

Neal reluctantly agreed to continue the lessons at least for the week he was working from home. He'd then reevaluate. Before the lesson, he'd pictured himself performing acrobatic leaps, flying through the air in feats of dazzling virtuosity. The Way of the Orchid was so far a dud.

Neal had worn his running shoes and he raced through Riverside Park on the way home. The exhilaration brought a measure of relief. How could he possibly perform taiji when every muscle in his body screamed run?

It wasn't until he reached home that he realized his back didn't hurt anymore. Was it because of Doc Jacob or the Way of the Orchid? Whatever. Neal pounced on it as a victory. That was going into his milestones box of accomplishments. And he knew exactly what he'd make. An origami of a leopard. He'd taken the first step in wrestling control from Klaus and snapping a collar around the Leopard's neck.

Taking advantage of his better mood, Neal made significant progress on the painting before the meeting was scheduled to start. He'd spent most of the previous night on it as well. He'd worked till he was so tired he didn't have to worry about nightmares. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it'd tide him over till Jacob and the Way of the Orchid worked their magic on him.

Henry had called him daily, filling him in on how he broke into Adler's hideaway and how Kate had rescued him. Neal wasn't surprised at her actions. Kate wasn't the type of person who could just stand by and let a person be killed. Besides, Henry had helped her flee the country. She owed him.

Mainly, Henry wanted to discuss the virtual prison Neal had been in. Since Neal had already discussed it for hours with Jacob, it was no longer so painful to talk about. Henry appeared particularly interested in the roles Rolf had programmed for El, Diana, Jones, and Hughes. Never had Neal been so appreciative that he'd omitted any mention of his relatives to Klaus.

Henry was still on his way from the airport by the time the team had gathered at June's. She kept watch for him while Peter discussed the news from Los Angeles. Erasmus Penfold was scheduled to appear in court today and most likely would be released on bail. The D.A. hoped to have Katja Visser's bail denied. The team was confident she was Marta, but there was still had no substantiating evidence.

When Henry's taxi rolled up, June called Neal out of the meeting so they could both greet him. Henry looked paler and thinner than when Neal last saw him. His left arm was in a sling, but his grin was as self-confident as ever.

"And I thought I had the title of black sheep of the family sewn up," Neal teased. "Are you trying to muscle in on my turf?"

"I've snatched that title and hidden it where you can't possibly find it," Henry pronounced smugly. "All you have to do is ask Mom and Joe for confirmation." He nodded toward the dining room. "How much trouble am I in with them?"

"None. They figure you're Win-Win's problem."

Before they joined the others, Henry pulled him aside. "How many voices are you hearing inside your head right now?"

"Just like I told you Sunday," Neal admitted. "The same three: Klaus, me, and the old me."

"At least they're not increasing in number. That's a positive. You had another therapy session today, I hope."

Neal shrugged acknowledgement. "I'm having daily sessions till he signs the release form."

"Yesterday I researched the use of jigsaw puzzles as a psychological technique. It's chalked up some impressive results."

"I think it's helping." Neal hoped his voice didn't sound too tentative. He felt as if he couldn't hide anything. He'd lost his ability to shapeshift and along with it his identity. Now that Henry was here, maybe he could help him recover it.

"After the meeting, I'll need to touch base with my team," Henry said. "They only started in mid-June, and their boss has been AWOL for half the time we've been open."

Neal swallowed down the disappointment. "That's okay. I need to work on the Vermeer."

"But you take breaks to eat, right? I'll be back with takeout this evening. I have a craving for Indian food."

Neal nodded, satisfied. He could wait till then. He turned toward the dining room but Henry stopped him with a hand to his arm.

"If you need to leave during the meeting, go ahead. I'll catch you up later."

"You already told me about Kate. You have something worse to bring up?"

"Of course not. It's just we may drone on about Nazis for a while."

Neal wasn't concerned. During their phone calls Henry hadn't mentioned anything about the Braque painting. If he had found anything incriminating about Neal, he certainly wouldn't bring it up in a group discussion.

Seated around June's dining room table were Peter, Jones, Travis, Diana, and Mozzie. When they welcomed Henry, they contained their teasing of Jungle Boy to a minimum.

"How's the shoulder?" Peter asked.

"It's healing well. And I think when you hear what I found out, you'll believe that my Jungle Boy experience was well justified." Henry paused for dramatic effect, making sure he had everyone's attention. "We now know who's been feeding Adler information. When Adler fled Argentina, we assumed it was to Paraguay. Yesterday Win-Win's tech wizards traced a call which was placed in Asuncion, Paraguay last Wednesday. That was the day after Adler fled. The call was made to the FBI's New York office. It was a coded message, consisting mainly of strings of numbers. The voice in Paraguay has now been identified through voice recognition software to be that of Garrett Fowler. Distinctive vocal patterns give the finding a high probability of accuracy."

"And the voice on the other end?" Peter demanded.

"A private cell phone belonging to Agent Joseph Ruiz received the call. Ruiz answered with a brief acknowledgment that the message was received." Henry turned to Jones. "Yuri Pazuniak is in charge of the monitoring team. He expects you and Travis will contact him for details of the transmission."

At Henry's news, the room erupted into a feeding frenzy of questions and speculation. Neal knew Ruiz disliked him. He'd made no secret that he held Neal responsible for somehow framing Fowler and ruining his career, when in actuality it was Fowler trying to stick it to Neal. Fowler used to work in Organized Crime with Ruiz. He had many friends there. Was this what Henry was talking about when he said Neal might not want to hang around?

"I didn't see Fowler at the hideout," Henry said, "and Kate didn't mention him, but there were multiple voices talking over breakfast when I broke in. One of them could have been Fowler's."

"I'm not surprised it's Ruiz," Travis said. "The way he tried to intimidate Neal back in December? I knew he was trouble."

"Neal, that was the day you were practicing with the snooper pen," Peter said. "Do you still have the recording?"

Neal nodded. "I saved it in case there was another incident."

"Ruiz's team botched their assignment during the Samurai bond op," Diana said, her mouth twisting into a grimace. "Neal could have died from their incompetence."

"Their actions were investigated by OPR," Peter cautioned. "Ruiz made a strong case for it not being deliberate."

"I was furious when I found out about it," Henry said, "and still am." He turned to Neal who was sitting next to him. "Did any other issues pop up with Ruiz?"

"No, but I've tended to avoid Organized Crime's floor," Neal admitted. "During the few encounters I've had with Ruiz, he's been civil."

"I bet Fowler approached him sometime after the bond case," Jones speculated. "If Ruiz had been working for Fowler, he never would have threatened Neal so openly in the hallway."

"It's difficult to accept any Bureau agent being an informant, even someone with Ruiz's history," Peter said. "He was a young star on the rise. I wonder how Fowler was able to persuade him."

"It might not have been that difficult," Travis said. "Ruiz already resented Neal for what happened to Fowler."

"And we don't know the extent of Ruiz's betrayal," Jones added. "He may not realize Fowler is working for Adler. It's possible he has a misguided notion he'll be able to persuade Fowler to come back and be reinstated. If he genuinely thinks Neal framed Fowler instead of the other way around, Ruiz could delude himself that he's working to right an injustice."

"I'll notify Hughes," Peter said. "It will be up to OPR to prosecute the case."

"But there's no need to inform them immediately, is there?" Neal asked. He noticed Henry flash him a quick smile. He had the same idea. "Ruiz is a minor player. He can be taken down anytime. He's much more useful where he is. We've now got an open channel to funnel false intel to Adler."

"I like it," Peter agreed. "If Ruiz knows we're suspicious of him, we will have lost our advantage. He provides our best chance of locating both Fowler and Adler."

"I sense the beginning of a Machiavellian counter-strategy," Mozzie commented, his eyes glinting in a look Neal knew well. Up to now he'd been a silent observer, but this was Mozzie's turf. "We must now lull our mark into a false sense of security. Does anyone have an in with him?"

Diana waved her hand nonchalantly in his direction. "I do."

Mozzie beamed at her as if she'd presented him with the keys to Fort Knox. "La femme! You will be our agent provocateur."

"Just what is the nature of this relationship?" Peter complained in his cut-the-crap voice.

"Ruiz was more than a little friendly when I worked with him during the bond case last December," Diana explained

"Does he know about Christie?" Jones asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah, but that doesn't matter. It may make me even more attractive to him. I can easily play the flirtation game with Ruiz. It won't be nearly as enjoyable as when I flirt with Neal"—she paused to toss him a coquettish smile—"but I won't need to come on as strong. Ruiz hinted at the opportunities I'd have at Organized Crime. I could work that angle."

"Diana could simply act friendly, not like she's falling for the guy," Henry agreed. "Ruiz will probably hold out hope he can eventually win her over." He turned to face her. "Does he know anything about the stories you're writing?"

"He may have heard about them," she conceded, "but that shouldn't raise any flags. I can lay it on thick about how I'm being forced to work evenings on them with no extra compensation." She paused to clear her throat and raise a brow at Peter. When Neal snickered, she directed her glare on him. "I could vent for hours about how Neal's a spoiled brat, and I resent the extra perks he gets."

"You need any extra grievances, I'll be happy to supply them," Henry quipped.

They all jumped in to prime the pump. Had Diana spread the word that the team should stop treating him with kid gloves? They were all bare-knuckled now and Neal was happy to play along. He didn't need Henry's nudge to participate. "Since you insist," he said, heaving a deep sigh. "I agree to take one for the team and become extra annoying."

"Attaboy!" Peter said, cheering him on. "Put that smartass spirit into overdrive."

"Carry your obnoxiousness to new bounds," Diana encouraged. "I could use some fresh material."

"We've got the agent," Travis said, ticking off the points on his fingers. "We have the motivation and the pipeline. Any ideas on what we'll feed into it?"

"All in good time," Mozzie said. "Jones and I've been working on a solution so devastatingly brilliant that it—"

"Which is not ready to be presented," Jones said, interrupted him hurriedly, frowning at his overly exuberant strategy master.

Peter took the opportunity to question Henry. "Besides forcing Adler out of hiding, did you discover anything about the Braque painting or Adler's apparent obsession with Nazis?"

"I have that obsession to thank for my escape. You know that Kate set me free. She claimed that it was because she didn't want to see me die, but I pumped her for information before leaving." Henry went on to explain how Franz Huber had told Adler's father about a shipment of art which had been loaded into a U-boat bound for Argentina. The plan had been to conceal a secret treasury for Hitler to avail himself of after the war. When Travis and Jones heard that Huber mentioned fractals being used in U-boat antennas, it was like mini-antennas sprang out of their heads and began broadcasting signals to each other.

How did this tie in to Mozzie's discovery of fractals being used to send coded messages within the French Resistance? Suddenly fractals were appearing everywhere. Fractals were taking over the world.

"Did Kate say anything about the Nazi ruins Mitch discovered?" Jones asked.

Henry nodded. "She confirmed something I'd discovered earlier in Adler's office—a handwritten letter. Adler had discovered it in the ruins and it led him to believe that the key to the location of the U-boat was that Braque painting he's been trying to buy for the past several months—Violin and Candlestick. I'd found the letter in his files when I searched Adler's office and photographed it. Win-Win's lab boys have spent the past several days working on it." Henry handed a flash drive to Jones. "This is a copy. Kate returned my watch, pen, and phone. What she didn't realize was that the pen was a camera, similar to the snooper pen Travis provided Neal."

"I take it the letter was in German?" Peter asked.

"Yes. It was inside an envelope addressed to Nina Bergmann. There was only the name, not an address. It had never been sent."

"Bergmann?" Jones repeated, his face flashing recognition. "That's the name of Rosenberg's assistant. Rosenberg was in charge of confiscating the art. Anton Bergmann was Huber's boss."

"Nina was Bergmann's wife," Henry added.

"What did the letter say?" Mozzie demanded.

"The letter was in pieces, much of it was destroyed. The signature—a scrawled Anton— was barely legible. Bergmann refers to a shipment of art works. The name of the Braque painting is mentioned. He ends the letter by saying that the key to recovering the art is in the violin."

"Do we know what happened to Bergmann at the end of the war?" Diana asked.

"I'd researched it," Jones supplied. "The last mention of Bergmann was in August 1944, shortly before the liberation of Paris. The Germans surrendered the city in August of that year. He was presumed to have been killed during the assault."

"Instead, we now believe he fled to Argentina," Henry said. "In the same file containing Bergmann's letter was a printed report in Spanish. There's a copy of it on the flash drive I gave Jones. The priests at the Jesuit settlement near the hideout were questioned and tipped Adler's agent off to a retired priest living in Cordoba. The priest said that several Germans lived in the settlement around the end of the war. He suspected they might be Nazis but had no proof. He was acquainted with Bergmann. The priest remembered him contracting malaria and dying from the disease. When you see the handwriting on the letter, you'll understand why we think Bergmann must have been sick when he wrote it. The writing trails off in several places."

"Does it sound like his wife has the painting?" Travis asked.

"That's the way we read it. One phrase that wasn't destroyed says 'don't sell the violin.' "

"What do we know about his wife?" Peter asked.

Jones searched through a file on his laptop. "Nina Bergmann's listed as having been killed during the bombing of Munich. That was in April 1945."

"There's no date on the letter," Henry said, "but we know Bergmann disappeared from official records the previous August. He could have written her, not knowing she was already deceased."

"What you learned explains Adler's interest in the Braque," Peter said. "This makes me wonder how Bergmann got his hands on the painting. Was he responsible for transporting the shipment and decided to keep one of the paintings for himself? And what happened to it after the wife died?"

"Someone could have found it in the rubble," Diana pondered aloud. "It may have exchanged hands many times with the owners not realizing its value."

"Did you find anything to explain his interest in Neal?" Peter asked.

The question was expected. Once Henry began talking about Kate, Neal had steeled himself for the inevitable linkage. But so far nothing had been mentioned which would connect Neal to the painting. Neal was careful to express innocent curiosity, fixing his eyes on Henry for his response.

"I asked Kate about that. She said Adler realized he'd need Neal's help to sell the paintings. Adler's a financier, not an art expert."

"Do you really believe she betrayed Adler simply because she didn't want you to die?" Diana asked, ever the skeptic.

"You aren't the only one who suspects an ulterior motive," Henry said bluntly. "Kate claimed it was because Adler's obsession was destroying their lives. That's all he wants to focus on."

Peter looked unconvinced. "More likely she was acting as Adler's puppet. They let you take away the files and now expect you to lead them to the U-boat. I suspect Adler examined your pen and knew what it was. He downloaded the file, opened it, and decided to let you keep it."

Henry shrugged. "If they want us to lead them to the treasure, that's exactly what we should do. Adler had no luck in finding the Braque. He must figure with the resources of the FBI and Win-Win behind us we have a much better chance. I had all my gear checked. The only bug I brought back was that virus. If he wants to have his agents tail us, let them go ahead. That gives us the chance to catch them."

"Fowler must have told him that Ruiz doesn't have access to our files." Peter shook his head thoughtfully. "It's quite a gamble, but Adler may have figured that was his best bet. He has to realize we'll try to trap him."

Henry smiled at the group. "We got ourselves a game of high-stakes poker. I assume we're all in?"

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

"What did we miss?" Neal demanded, swirling to face Mozzie.

He didn't expect an answer, and he knew it was stupid to ask, but that was all he could think of. When the meeting broke up, everyone headed back to work—Peter and his team downtown to the Federal Building, Henry to his office in SoHo, and Neal and Mozzie upstairs to reassess.

They'd examined the Braque from every angle, under every filter. They'd researched all the invisible inks known to have been used during World War II and tested the painting with every combination of reagents. And now—just as they'd concluded there was nothing to be found—Henry waved a letter from Bergmann in front of them, insisting the painting was the key to locating the art.

"Stop pacing!" Mozzie ordered. "You're scaring my qi. What we need is calm deliberation." He sat down on the edge of one of Neal's dining chairs and folded his arms so that the palms of his hands were pressed against each other. Lifting his arms high above his head, he slowly lowered them while taking an excruciatingly long breath. "Now you do it."

Neal glared at him. "I don't have time for this." His qi had already melted and was now molten lava, threatening to smother them both.

Mozzie crossed his arms. "Sit!"

Neal huffed and grabbed a chair. Anything to keep his shaolin master from insisting he perform taiji.

"It's all proceeding according to plan," Mozzie said calmly. "You should feel contentment, not frustration. Now that we know more about the Braque, we can drill down on where the key is. I agree there is no hidden message. In the words of the immortal Sherlock, what remains must be the solution, no matter how improbable."

"What's that?"

"Fractals, mon frère. I submit that the sheet of fractal equations is linked to fractal patterns contained with the painting."

"You already searched for them and didn't find any."

"But that was before I knew about the equations being a code. We each have our task. Mine is to work on the Braque. Yours is the Vermeer painting." He bounded up as if a hidden spring had been released. "Why are you sitting around? The game's afoot! When I return this evening I expect to see significant progress on that painting."

Neal reluctantly nodded agreement. For the analysis Mozzie intended to perform, Neal couldn't help. The act of painting would restore some semblance of control before Henry returned.

When Mozzie departed for the bunker, Neal slipped a CD into the player and changed into his painting clothes. As he once more set to work on the canvas, he grew calmer. It was just him and the astronomer. Nothing else mattered. One painting at a time. One puzzle piece at a time.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Henry returned at seven as promised with Indian takeout. Apparently his appetite was healthier than his shoulder. He brought a feast of lamb vindaloo, naan, dhal, raita, and samosas. He also supplied several bottles of Indian beer to replenish Neal's supply in the fridge. A front had passed through and it was cool enough to sit outside. As the sun dipped low over the Hudson, the sky cloaked itself in a Turner sunset of soft coral and azure.

As Neal dug into the food, he asked Henry how much trouble he was in.

Henry shrugged as he popped the top off his beer bottle. "My injury may have been a good thing. The sympathy card worked well with Joe at first, and it tempered Mom's response. The grandfathers were a mixture of anger and envy. But after the initial storm passed, they realized that the intel I'd acquired was valuable enough to make it worth the risk. I knew it would be a gamble and there might be severe repercussions, but it was all on me. No one else was exposed to harm."

"I knew that was why you handled it that way. Who will lead the effort to find Adler?"

"Radha is in charge of that," Henry said, reaching for a samosa. "He and Jones have developed a good working relationship. I'm off the travel circuit for a while and will focus on New York projects."

"Has Mozzie grilled you about Hitler clones yet?"

"He called me yesterday. Is our paranoid friend sleeping here and should I be worried about that?"

"Yes and no. He slept here last night, but I convinced him to stay in one of June's guest rooms from now on. You don't have to be concerned about him stuffing my head with Nazi invasion theories." Neal tapped his temple. "The inn is already full with conspiracies. There's no room for his, too. Besides, his humming was waking me up."

Henry gave him one of Peter's no-nonsense looks. "Are you sure it was his humming?"

There was no point in deflecting. Henry knew him too well. "I'm making progress. The nightmares are getting better. Now when I see Klaus's face, I try to picture those silver puzzle pieces instead."

"Not a bad strategy." He helped himself to another samosa. "What was that music you had on when I arrived? I thought at first I was listening to Springsteen's 'Incident on 57th Street' but the introduction went on forever."

"Springsteen? That's a stretch. That was a Schubert piano sonata."

Henry frowned. "You told me Klaus played Schubert. Is this another instance of him messing with your head?"

"I don't think so. It helps me focus on the forgery. I want this painting to be perfect. The Woman in Blue was the best forgery I'd ever made. I associate Vermeer now with Schubert, and yeah, I guess Klaus. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. I'm preparing this forgery to thwart his plan. Keeping my focus on the objective is good, right?"

Henry didn't look convinced. Neal busied himself with eating so Henry wouldn't ask him more about it. When he focused on painting he didn't think about the memories so much and that was healthy, even if Schubert might seem freaky.

Henry had never seen Neal prepare a forgery and appeared genuinely curious about how he approached it. After they demolished the food, they went inside. Henry declared he wanted to study the painting with fresh eyes.

Neal went into the kitchen to refill his glass with wine. That painting was calling to him like The Woman in Blue used to. He often conducted conversations with his paintings. Generally he heard female voices, but this time it was a man. The astronomer was believed to be Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, a seventeenth century scientist. For Neal, the scientist now represented Azathoth.

The team had known of Azathoth's interest in astronomy since the time he forged the Galileo manuscript. This painting by Vermeer must have represented the embodiment of Azathoth to Rolf and Klaus as well. Vermeer and Galileo were from the same period. The figure in the painting was studying the celestial globe. It was easy to imagine he was Azathoth planning his next move. A brass astrolabe lay below the globe. It reminded Neal of the armillary spheres Azathoth had used in the house where he'd kidnapped Peter and Neal. How much inspiration had Azathoth derived from this painting?

"Hey, Earth to Neal. You still with us?" Henry had walked into the kitchen. How long had Neal been staring at his wine glass? No wonder Henry looked worried. "Come and talk to me about this painting. What are you seeing in it?"

Neal winced. "I don't think you want to know."

"Yes, I do," he insisted.

Neal walked him through the associations he made with Azathoth. "You think I'm the typical obsessed artist," he said afterward.

"No, it makes sense. And I like your use of Azathoth to refer to both Rolf and Klaus. We knew he was playing mind games. We gotta work on our own now." He helped himself to another beer from the fridge. "Did Klaus ever discuss Nazi plunder when you lived in Geneva?"

"He used to daydream about finding lost masterpieces. We argued over what should be done with them. I advocated for returning them to their owners. He didn't see any difference between profiting off the Nazis and stealing art from museums."

"But you did?"

"Yeah, I couldn't profit off war crimes then or ever. Klaus brought up the subject in the virtual world, but there I had no objections. That's one set of memories that I can easily discard as fake." Neal sprawled on the couch where he could continue to look at the painting.

Henry pulled up a chair to sit across from him. "You mentioned that Klaus asked about the Braque painting. Is it possible he's working with Adler?"

"I don't think so. We know members of Ydrus helped fund your investigation to find Adler, and we've established that Rolf is a top operative within Ydrus. Since Karl Huber also works for them, we assume he told them about his father's journal. Now that he's in hiding he probably needs their help if he wants to find the art. Klaus must have heard about Adler's offer to buy the Braque and was fishing to see what I knew."

Henry nodded absently. "You didn't ask if Kate mentioned you."

"Did she?"

"She gave me a message for you. She said that Adler believes you know where the Braque is. He put out feelers but you didn't answer. Kate pleaded for you to locate the painting for him. She claimed you'd be handsomely rewarded."

Neal swallowed. The Braque. It was now at the center of everything, and Henry knew about it. Neal felt like a hamster trapped in an exercise wheel spinning around it. He tamped down his unease and acted nonchalant, even though Henry would probably recognize it as being fake. "What else did she say that you didn't tell the others?"

"That Adler heard a rumor you'd stolen the painting. Is it true?"

Neal didn't answer. The voices inside his head screamed at him to run. That was the only way to keep Henry safe. Knowing that the voices were planted didn't help. Puzzle pieces. He tried to picture Jacob sitting in front of him, handing him another puzzle piece, but the pieces were scattering in all directions, flying off the walls, smacking him in the face.

Now that Adler knew Henry was working with Neal, would he strike at Henry again? Kidnap him in an attempt to blackmail Neal? Not if Neal ran. If no one knew where he was, they couldn't threaten anyone he cared about. He had to escape now.

Neal bolted off the couch and retreated into the kitchen to pour more wine even though his glass was still full. Henry stayed seated, watching him, waiting.

Neal dropped the glass on the counter and sped outside to the terrace wall. The air inside had become unbreathable. He stared out at the skyline, a jigsaw of rooftops and terraces. Focus. Not on Braque, not Adler, not Klaus, not Henry, not Peter. Jigsaw pieces . . .

Dimly he heard racing footsteps behind him.

"Slow down that breathing!" Henry ordered, pressing hard with his good hand on Neal's back and forcing his head lower. "Don't you dare hyperventilate. I'm in no shape to drag your ass back inside."

"I'm okay," Neal muttered.

"Like hell you are." Henry was loud in his ear, drowning out the other voices. "You have to tell me. You keep that painting a secret, it will destroy you."

Neal didn't reply, but Henry didn't let up. "You know you can trust me. I won't tell anyone—not Peter, not Mom, not Win-Win. This is just you and me. You gotta let me in."

Notes: In Penna's latest vignette "Splash," she wrote about how Henry extricated a puppy from a hole it had fallen into. The puppy was howling its frustration at being trapped. In this chapter Neal is also making a howl of distress, and Henry is there to hear it. I blogged about Henry and Neal this week. The post is called "A Silent Howl."

Henry freed the puppy. Neal presents a much more difficult challenge. Henry's efforts continue in next week's chapter. Sara is also featured in Chapter 15: Clueless.

A few notes about references to earlier stories: Neal had faked the severity of an injury when he was held prisoner in An Evening with Genji. That same story contains the incidents with Ruiz which the team referenced during the meeting. Billy used the tiger orchid as a metaphor for Neal's situation in The Queen's Jewels.

The orchid mantis is a superb example of mimicry. Its pink, cream, and purple hues allow it to blend perfectly with an orchid. I've pinned a photo to the Nocturne in Black and Gold Pinterest board.

Purple has been much on my mind lately, and not just because of orchids. It's also the color of a duckling named Amethyst who is a character in Penna's upcoming novel. Amethyst may be pint-sized but she has a ton of personality. If you'd like to meet her, hop over to our blog. Penna's latest post is: "Novel Progress: meet Amethyst." On the breaking news front, a scene she'd posted earlier about Zach's childhood will be published by Ninja Writers and appear in their NW zine! Yay, Penna!

But not all the news has been happy. Our thoughts and hearts go out to those affected by the latest tragedies. Penna blogged about the events in Puerto Rico and Las Vegas where she envisioned the reactions of some of the Caffrey Conversation characters.

Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Chapter Visuals and Music: The Nocturne in Black and Gold board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website