NOTE: Just so you know I haven't given up on this story, and thank you to everyone who hasn't give up on me. :) Hugs! I will be a little slow to update (as I'm sure you've noticed). Historically around chapter 20 is when I need a quick breather from any one story line to recollect my thoughts and the same thing is happening with this story.
Gardner Note: 99% of the facts about the Gardner Heist in this chapter are true, right up to the point where Neal starts guessing the motive behind the theft. This is still an open FBI case that actually made the news again May of this year when the FBI raided the house of aging mobster, 81 year old Robert Gentile...for the third time. They are very convinced he either has or at least had the art, and with good reason. He told two undercover FBI Agents last year that he had access to two of the of the pieces and four years ago during another raid they found a handwritten list of all the art that was taken along with estimates of the value in his home. It would be *amazing* if any of the art was recovered and it is encouraging that the FBI is still working hard to make that happen.
However, I will be ignoring the Gentile lead in favor of a pure fiction resolution to the heist.
Chapter Twenty-one
"I can't believe I've been talked into this."
"What? You're the one who said I shouldn't be playing with Frost and Bryant on my own."
"I know, and I stand by it."
"You're just not happy about it." Neal smiled.
"Not particularly."
"Cheer up. It will be fun. I love Boston, and it's just a trip to a museum. What could possibly go wro..."
"Finish that sentence and I will never speak to you again." Peter interrupted seriously.
Neal made a show of taking a deep purposeful breath to finish his fate tempting question but ended up laughing at the narrow eyed death glare Peter shot him. Neal decided against calling out Murphy's Law and stayed quiet, just in case something did go wrong today. Happy with the silence Peter pulled up to the guard station at Anacostia and rolled down the window. The Airman First Class took the identification cards that Frost had given them, furrowing his brow he inspected the holographic card carefully before giving Neal and Peter a close inspection as well. Without a word he handed the cards back and after signaling for the gate to be opened he waved them through.
"We're looking for airstri..."
"Follow the red signs." The Airman interrupted Peter flatly.
"Thank you."
"I'm guessing that we're expected." Neal smiled as Peter carefully navigated through the busy base.
"Fancy cards or not we wouldn't have gotten this far if we weren't."
"Yeah, Military Bases were always one of the place I tried to avoid trespassing on."
"'Tried'?" Peter questioned.
"You don't want to know."
"You're right, I'm sure I don't."
Neal was contemplating sharing the story anyway when they caught sight of Frost and Bryant near one of the smaller hangers. Frost still had one crutch tucked up under his arm to help with his still painful ankle. Peter pulled the car up to an open space that Bryant waved him towards. Frost was moving better than the day before as he used the single crutch for just a touch of support as he walked over with Bryant but he was still limping more than usual.
"Why don't you ever let Neal drive?" Frost teased as the men got out of the car.
"It's because he has control issues."
"It's because you haven't had a valid drivers license in over a decade." Peter corrected.
"Depending on your definition of 'valid' it's been a lot longer than that." Neal chuckled.
"I'm guessing Peter doesn't consider the one I got you at the Academy valid." Frost added.
"Did he have to pass a drivers test to get it?" Peter asked.
"Not exactly."
"Then 'no'."
"It's okay," Neal shrugged "I don't mind being chauffeured around."
"Well then, you're going to love this." Frost beamed proudly. "Come, Gentlemen, our chariot awaits."
Frost turned to lead the group inside the large open hanger doors. Neal noticed Bryant hung back a bit, guessing that he wanted to talk to Peter Neal tugged on Peter's sleeve to bring Bryant to his attention before leaving the two men to catching up with Frost. Neal glanced up approvingly at the Gulfstream G650 parked in the hanger but his attention was mostly on Frost. Once inside the hanger Frost looked over his shoulder at the fact that Bryant hadn't followed him in and sighed heavily.
"Frost?"
"I really messed up, Neal." Frost admitted. "I broke my promise to not drink alone, Bryant is pretty pissed at me."
"Understandable."
"I hate to disappoint him, but I was having a rough time." Frost worked to explain himself. "Every other time I've called him or rather he's just been there, we're not often apart. You know how it is, we don't really have lives outside the CIA."
"The FBI has the same effect. Peter spends more waking hours a week with me than Elizabeth."
"Exactly, it's more than a job. It's why they are called 'partners' and not 'coworkers', but as much as I think Bryant would like to he can't watch me 24/7. I would have turned to him, but he had something important to do."
"And you didn't think you were going to get caught." Neal added knowingly.
"That too." Frost said ruefully. "I've never done it before, however now he thinks this wasn't a one time deal."
"Even if it was, it's not a great way to cope."
"I know, but it works for me."
"Does it?"
"You sound like Bryant." Frost smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, I'm not asking for your help in fixing this, I'm just venting."
"Next time if Bryant can't be there you know you can call me, right?"
"Thank you, Neal." Frost said sounding genuinely touched. "I will. That's generous of you considering everything that's happened lately, I really did expect you to hate me."
"You did what you felt was best, although don't take that as an open invitation to do it again."
"Of course not."
"Also I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in spending some time with a CIA Agent who becomes extraordinarily loose lipped with a little liquor, which seems like something that would be a bit of a liability for someone in your line of work."
"If Peter hadn't been a friend I would have done better." Frost assured.
"Still you had to know that he'd tell me, you had that money locked in loaded in your back pocket."
"I knew."
"So why make the bet?"
"I was hoping the money would make Bryant forget he was mad at me."
"Did it work?"
"It didn't hurt." Frost chuckled, looking like he was feeling better just talking about it. "He'll forgive me, he always does."
"Always a good quality to have in a friend."
"You can't be as close as we are and not be willing to accept one another's weaknesses."
"What's Bryant's weakness?" Neal asked out of curiosity.
"...I am." Frost admitted quietly.
"What?"
"He changed the entire course of his life for me, and I let him do it. Worse thing I ever did to him, but I selfishly don't regret it."
Before Neal could ask any further questions Peter and Bryant finished their own quick private talk and joined them in the hanger. Frost smiled hopefully at Bryant and although Bryant shook his head sadly he had lost the concerned look in his eyes that had been there early. Neal wasn't sure what Peter had said to him but it seemed to put him back at ease. Seeing the change as well Frost brightened and threw his arm over Bryant's shoulder, pulling him off balance as he dragged him closer. Bryant resisted the affection at first but quickly gave in with a roll of his grey-blue eyes.
"We good?" Frost asked brightly.
"For now." Bryant conceded.
"Good enough." Frost beamed. "Time to fly like a G6."
"I hate that song." Bryant huffed.
"Wait, we're taking this plane to Boston?" Neal asked excited.
"I told you Bryant and I don't fly commercial."
"This fancy egg crate with wings belongs to the Military?" Peter asked doubtfully looking up at the classy private jet.
"Nope, this is a CIA impound."
"You guys impound some nice stuff." Neal said approvingly.
"Only the best."
When Bryant turned to head towards the plan Frost mouthed Peter a silent 'thank you'. Peter just nodded, Neal knew that Peter understood what it was like to have partner that was self destructive at times and it would probably be good for them both to have someone to commiserate with. With everything seemingly put in place Neal followed Bryant up the door that had been folded down into a ladder. The inside of the sixty-six million dollar private jet was just as flashy as Neal had hoped and with a top speed of Mach .925 they were in Boston in practically no time at all. Even Peter had to admit that it was a sweet ride, although he didn't use that exact phrasing. Arriving at Hanscom Air Force Base it was only a short drive through the winding streets of Boston to get to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in the Fenway neighborhood.
The Museum wasn't open for another few hours so they had the house to themselves after the curator had welcomed them inside. The curator was pleased to have the FBI's attention, even after 26 years the museum was forever hopeful that the paintings would be returned. The empty frames from the eleven missing paintings and drawings still hung on the walls in honor of the lost works and in preparation for their return.
The home-like museum had paintings and work from all over the world and through the ages covering every available surface of the small viewing rooms. The center of the three story Venetian palace held a beautiful fully planted courtyard with an intricate mosaic in the center and a wonderfully detailed fountain at one end that was surrounded on three sides by a raised open air stone hallway that led into the show rooms. As they stepped into the Yellow Room Neal marveled at the detail that Isabella had placed into everything right down to the bright yellow silk woven wall paper. Bryant, Frost and Peter all held more a curious interest in the surrounding rather than the deeper emotional response that Neal felt.
"This place seems fairly disorganized." Peter noted looking at a walls that seemed haphazardly covered in art that varied in subject from seascapes, to wildlife to portraits.
"Part of Isabella's wishes for the museum was that the collection remain as she had placed it." Neal explained. "She was a woman far beyond her time, although it can be hard to divide the fact from the fiction in her life as she quote to say 'never ruin a good story by telling the truth'."
"I can see why you like her."
"She saw art as few people do, and she wanted to share that view. She enjoyed the intimate atmosphere of a private home rather than a sterile museum set up. Also this first room may seem random, but the art in here is all from the era of the museum's founding where as the rest of the house is devoted to the past. It's a little cluttered but it's beautiful in its own way. The architecture is a work of art in it's own right as well which Isabella oversaw herself."
"The courtyard is stunning," Peter agreed. "Elizabeth would love this."
"If you ever want to borrow the jet to bring her up here for the night just let me know." Frost offered.
"I will take you up on that offer if I ever screw up to royally with her."
"No need to wait until a mishap."
"Peter doesn't want to raise the bar too high on 'date night' without some kind of emergency." Neal explained.
Peter reached up and touched his finger to his nose to signify that Neal was correct.
"You're such a romantic, Peter." Frost chuckled. "You know that every once in a while you gotta sweep the gal off her feet."
"Slow and steady wins the race." Peter said before shaking his head. "No. Stop. I'm not discussing my marriage with you any further."
"Careful, Peter," Frost teased "we just might becoming friends."
"Why are we here?" Peter asked to change the subject quickly. "There isn't anything here that isn't in the FBI file back in DC, it's been 26 years there isn't going to be any additional evidence here."
"I thought it would help to see the museum in person."
"You just wanted to impress Neal with the fancy plane in case he held any residual grudge over being lied to."
"Did it work?" Frost asked Neal.
"It did."
"Awesome." Frost winked. "Actually what I really wanted to do is get the heist from a professional thief's perspective. The FBI has been over this case a million times, but I don't think they've taken a look at it from a different angle."
"The heist seemed poorly planned, and maybe it was. The FBI has long assumed that the paintings taken were chosen pretty much at random." Bryant spoke up as he reached into the side satchel he was carrying and pulled out a small sheaf of paper. "However, if Neal can find a pattern we might have a fresh lead. The museum only had cameras in the front at the time, but they did have motion sensors. This is a step by step walk through of where the two thieves went and when."
"I thought if you could see the art around what they took it might give you some insight into why they targeted the ones that they did." Frost said. "There is so much here and a lot of it is more valuable than what they took."
"They also had all night, and yet they only took eighty-one minutes." Peter added. "They had the two guards tied up after gaining entry by pretending to be cops, the guards didn't have time to raise the alarm by the time they realized their mistake. They took two leisurely trips to their car so it wasn't like they felt like they were in a rush."
"Two kids loose in a candy store and they didn't stuff their pockets to overflowing." Neal noted. "I've always thought their choice of paintings was simply amateur, never really thought about a targeted attack. Is it possible that these were Ivory List items?"
"As far as we know the Ivory List wasn't a thing until several years after the heist." Frost replied. "Of course just because the organized list wasn't up and running that doesn't mean something similar wasn't circulating."
Neal looked over the transcribed that Bryant had handed him. It had times and locations of movements starting from 1:24 am when the men first rang to get the guards attention. The first guard was handcuffed under the pretense that the 'cops' after first claiming to be responding to a disturbance announced to the guard that they believe that there was an outstanding warrant for his arrest. The second guard who was out on patrol was similarly detained when he returned to the front desk. Both guards were heavily scrutinized but nothing was ever found to connect them with the crime, they were young and it seems that they had just fallen for the uniforms the thieves were wearing. Neal knew from experience that he could get away with quite a bit anytime he put on a uniform of just about any description, people trusted authority for the most part.
Paper in hand Neal walked up to the second floor where the thieves started their plunder. They had instantly gone for the largest and most impressive painting in the room a self portrait by Rembrandt, however it was painted on wood not canvas and when they couldn't get the heavy wooden panels out of the frame they gave up on it. After that they had started out well, the first four paintings were obvious masterpieces to even the least art-savvy observer. The two Rembrandts, the Vermeer, and the Flinck's were all large flashy pieces, classic looking oil on canvas that any thief would assume were worth a fortune, and they were right when all was said and done they had made off with 500 million dollars worth of art.
Stepping up to the empty frame that still hung on the wall Neal shook his head sadly at the tattered edges of Rembrandt's 'The Storm on the Sea of Galilee' that remained in the frame from where they had slashed it out. Neal stared at the empty spot on the wall and couldn't help think back to Raphael's St. George and the Dragon that he'd stolen to get Kate's attention. He hadn't meant it as a malicious act, and the painting had been returned, but standing here seeing a piece of history that may never be recovered brought on some unexpected feelings of guilt considering how close the Dragon had come to being lost forever as well.
"Neal?" Peter asked concerned when Neal didn't move for a few minutes.
"So far nothing is really jumping out at me." Neal responded in a business like tone. "Everything they took here has significance and extraordinary value. They could have taken more, but what they took was worth taking."
Looking back to the paper Neal took off towards the next targets. Having failed to take the painted Rembrandt self portrait they had smashed a frame to snatch a ink drawing self portrait by Rembrandt instead, again a clearly valuable piece. The drawing seemed to just be in their way as they walked towards a flag that held a large bronze eagle on top of it. Walking towards the eagle Neal stopped and retraced his steps again.
"Okay, this makes no sense at all." Neal said as he reread the paper to make sure had had it right.
"What's wrong?"
"They walked right past two Raphaels and a Botticelli to steal what amounts to a paperweight."
"The bronze eagle from top of the flag?" Frost asked.
"Exactly."
"The FBI's best guess is that they thought the eagle was made of gold." Peter shrugged.
"No one is that stupid." Neal shook his head.
"The FBI routinely arrests criminals who post their crimes to social media, like they think we don't have computers." Peter pointed out. "People can be stupid."
"Okay, I'll give you that. The Chinese bronze vase was another insane thing to steal, and that wouldn't look anything like gold." Neal furrowed his brow. "It took a good ten minutes to pry that off off the desk it was attached to and it's worthless on the black market."
"None of the art stolen ever seems to have made it to the black market." Bryant said.
"There have been reports that the vase was prized for unknown reasons by a local mobster." Peter said.
Neal took this new information and thought about it for a moment. He flipped through the rest of the pages noting that there were several rooms that the thieves never entered, including the entire third floor. It didn't feel random, it felt like they were here for something, but perhaps got distracted along the way.
"Okay, so take the paintings because they have obvious value," Neal thought out loud "steal the vase because you think you heard that a local big shot wants it and you want to make friends, take the eagle because it might be gold, which you only see because you've come into the Short Gallery to…that's it, that's the pattern."
"What is?"
"They were hired to steal the Degas drawings."
"The five sketches?" Frost asked doubtfully. "Why?"
"I have no idea…but my gut tells me they are the key and far more special than they first appear."
"Your gut?" Frost repeated with a smile. "Peter, you must be so proud."
"I really am."
"I regretted my word choice the second I used it." Neal sighed.
"Too late, Fed, it's instinct now."