Chapter 21: The Speckled Band

Peter's Townhouse. July 25, 2005. Monday evening.

When Peter returned to the study, Neal was standing in front of the painting he'd made of the three of them stargazing.

They'd gone to the cabin to heal after he and Neal were held prisoner by Azathoth. Neal had been blaming himself for Klaus's death. Then Azathoth tricked him into believing he'd killed Peter. That was the beginning of the Mansfelds' manipulations of both of them. How many of Neal's decisions about the Braque were influenced by the horrific scenes during that first abduction? If they were ever to escape the nightmare, they needed to reverse course and seize control.

Neal quickly sat down when he saw Peter and asked, "Where do you want me to start?"

"Did you know Henry was going to bring up the Braque at Friday's meeting?"

"No."

"You hadn't fabricated the scheme with him as a way to cover up what you did?" Peter challenged, not content with a simple denial.

"Henry didn't tell me anything about it beforehand," Neal said, a ragged edge to his voice. "No more deflections. No more concealment. I'm telling you the truth. Including the Braque in the con was Henry's idea. I was upset not to have been consulted and confronted him about it afterward. He said he did it to provide the same sort of insurance the Vermeer forgery was providing me . . . " Neal hesitated a moment before adding, "By his action Henry was encouraging me to open up. He didn't admit it to me, but I know that was his intention. It would be impossible for me to ignore the Braque and what I'd done now that it was being openly discussed."

That's what Peter hoped to hear. Henry had told Peter he was working on an angle. This must have been it. Neal could have viewed the con as a way to provide him cover. The forgery would provide some protection and allow him to continue the deception. Henry's action left the choice up to Neal, and he'd made the right decision. That counted for something.

Peter flipped back to his page of notes on Adler. "You explained what Kate told Henry about the painting. But months before then we already knew Adler was interested. Henry called from Paris in April to inform us Fowler was making inquiries. That's the first time I heard about Violin and Candlestick. I asked you to research it."

Neal nodded agreement. "That was when I discovered it had been plundered by the Nazis. Up to that moment, I'd believed what Klaus told me about its provenance."

"Let's leave that aside. Didn't you think I needed to know about your connection to the painting? We knew Adler was interested in you. Here's the reason, and you kept quiet about it. Why?"

Peter remembered questioning Neal about the painting in the office. He'd wondered if Neal had been hiding something. Then Neal told him about Mozzie being missing and Peter had concluded that was the cause. In the future, he wouldn't be so quick to leap to conclusions

"Because nothing had changed," Neal said, looking frustrated. "I've been working the entire time to protect you from any fallout because of my actions. Of course, I wanted to tell you. I can't count the number of times I had to hold myself back. I hated having to keep you in the dark, but it was the only way I knew to keep you safe."

"And in Paris? What if you'd been arrested in that church? What if I'd been called in for questioning about why my consultant had broken into a church and had a missing masterpiece in his possession?"

"You could have said that you'd been duped. That you'd been wrong about me. That I'd betrayed all the efforts you'd made on my behalf." Neal stopped to take a breath. When he resumed, he was marginally calmer. "You could have walked away, with only the minor embarrassment of having misjudged me."

Peter exhaled and forced himself to count to ten so slowly it hurt. "What kind of lousy scenario is that? Are you so deluded as to think I could have possibly been okay with that?"

"It wasn't my first choice," he said miserably. "I didn't intend to get caught."

"And now? Am I supposed to thank Azathoth and Adler for having finally forced the truth out of you?"

That made him flinch. "After Los Angeles, Klaus"—he stopped and made a wave with his hand as if that covered all the stuff he'd been dealing with—"I was already convinced you'd be caught in the crossfire over me. I didn't want to add any more ammunition." He swallowed and took a moment. "I talked with Jacob on Saturday about a second trigger. That's what I felt the Braque had become. I didn't tell him about the painting but he knew I was hiding something. He said it was up to me to disarm it. Then your talk about bridges . . . Your offer to participate in the con . . . Purgatory." He propped his elbows on the armrests of the chair and lowered his head, raking his hair with both hands.

Where did Purgatory come from? Neal had never been particularly religious, although at the moment he did look like he'd been to Hell and back.

He raised his head, his hair standing up in spikes. "Despite my best efforts, you made yourself a target."

"Yep, that's right. You have to learn to deal with it." Peter paused to let that sink in. "You've often thanked me for trusting you and giving you that second chance. It's high time you start trusting me." When Neal started to protest, he cut him off. "Trust that I may not have the street creds you do, but I can hold my own in any con and that you don't need to keep me on a shelf."

"I realize that by not telling you I was giving Klaus and Rolf exactly what they wanted."

Finally. He knew Neal was smart enough to figure he was playing into their hands. "You have to accept that ops don't always work out. You try your best, but sometimes that's not good enough."

"I know that . . . on a metaphysical level, but when I'm the one who introduces the bad element—"

"Stop that!" Peter ordered roughly. "You proved my point. Get over it now. Is that really the way you want to live? Shutting yourself off from your friends, not committing yourself to any long relationship because you're worried about the fallout?"

"That's not the way I am," Neal protested.

Peter didn't dignify that comment with a response.

"Well, maybe a little," he admitted after a few seconds.

"Replace little with a lot and you're getting close."

Neal acknowledged defeat with a shrug. He rotated his wine glass in his hands for a moment before looking up. "Are you going to tell Interpol?"

Peter was flummoxed. "I wouldn't do that. I told you in San Francisco I wouldn't use your past thefts against you. Did you doubt my words?"

"We were speaking in hypotheticals," he said quietly. "I won't hold you to that."

"I wasn't speaking in hypotheticals then and I'm not now. Believe that."

"How about El?"

"No. There's no reason to involve her—and you don't have to give me that look—I know what you're thinking. I'm shielding her like you shielded us. But Neal, it's different for you and me. If we're going to move forward, we can't ever let this happen again." Peter paused to consider how best to express it. "It's like in Arkham. You and me, we're the ones with algolnium. We can fight the monsters Azathoth flings at us, but only if we're together."

He raised a brow. "So we're starmen after all?"

"Yeah, I think we are, and starmen don't keep secrets from each other. Is that a deal? 'Cause I'm gonna work my damnedest that we never need to have a conversation like this again, and I want your promise you'll do the same."

"You have it. I kept telling myself all these months that if I could just make this right, I'd never get trapped like this again. I hated not telling you, not sharing what I knew with the team."

Peter liked what he was hearing but couldn't resist pointing out, "And all the time you were digging yourself deeper into their trap."

Neal locked his eyes on him. "It won't happen again." His faced relaxed a little. "From now on, I've got the Burke tow truck on speed dial."

They stayed up for another hour. Neal walked him through what really happened to Mozzie when he disappeared in April. Peter couldn't decide what surprised him most—that Mozzie had been abducted by Fowler, that he'd built up a tolerance to sodium pentothal, or that he'd used the Cinderella drug on himself. Whatever. By Mozzie's actions, he'd managed to cast doubt in Adler's mind that Neal had the painting, and he'd done them all a service.

Step by step Neal outlined every detail on how he'd retrieved the painting. He'd brought along his laptop and pulled up images of the church which he referred to for the locations. For a brief moment, it seemed like Neal was conducting another of his art heist workshops. That was a bitter thought. Neal had conducted a workshop for the French police that morning and committed a crime in the evening.

It was close to midnight by the time Peter called it quits for the night.

"I'll let myself out," Neal offered. "You've probably seen as much of me as you care to for a long time. Do you still want me to report for work tomorrow morning?"

Was he kidding? Neal looked serious, and surely he was too drained for it to be a con job. Still, Peter decided to test the theory.

"No, I don't want you to come in."

Neal's face whitened. "I understand," he said mechanically. "I'll wait at home till you decide what you want to do. I won't run."

Peter exhaled. His question had been answered. "Before you get carried away by another false assumption, allow me to clarify. You're not going to the office because we'll be working in your loft tomorrow morning. Am I correct that's where the painting is?" At Neal's surprised nod, he added, "You're not going anywhere tonight. It's late. Taxis are hard to come by at this hour. You'll sleep here, and tomorrow we'll go over to your loft together. I'd also like Henry to be there and Mozzie as well. I don't anticipate any problem getting Henry to come, but how about Mozzie?"

Neal raised a brow. "You're not planning to arrest him?"

Peter chuckled. "No, I suppose I should thank him for rescuing you, but I won't go there. Tomorrow will be about how to handle the painting. They're the only others who know about it. They should be present. I assume by now you've told Mozzie about the undercover op in the fall when you forged the Vermeer for Klaus?"

"I told him in Paris the day you and El arrived."

"How did he take it?"

Neal took a breath. "Hurt, betrayal. About the same feelings you had when you heard about the Braque. He walked out on me. I thought our friendship might be over . . . like I worried about us tonight."

"But he forgave you, and I like to think I'm as good a man as Mozzie." Neal's look of gratitude was the only response he needed. "So you got dumped by your girlfriend and by one of your best friends in a twenty-four period. No wonder you were singing such depressing songs at the hotel."

Neal winced acknowledgement. "Not the best day of my life. Knowing how much I hurt you makes this evening rank even worse."

Peter appreciated the words but Neal didn't have to say it. His face had already conveyed the message for the entire evening. "This has been a long time coming. I've known for a while you were hiding something. We were stuck in a holding pattern until you faced up to it. Thank you." Peter stood up. "Bed's calling. Tomorrow will be about the future."

Neal rose from his chair. "You don't know how sweet that sounds."

"Oh, I think I have a fairly good idea."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

When Neal went upstairs to the guest bedroom, he discovered El had already laid out spare sleepwear. Had she suggested to Peter he stay the night? Whoever's idea it was, he was grateful. It would have been a long, lonely ride back to June's mansion.

After a quick shower Neal texted Henry, only to discover Henry was talking with Peter. Neal suspected Henry had been texting Peter as well as him. It would have been natural for Peter to consult with Henry. Neal knew Henry wouldn't have told him about the Braque. How much pressure had Peter exerted?

While waiting for Henry to get off the phone with Peter, Neal called Mozzie and explained why he'd gone ahead and confessed. Mozzie was surprisingly philosophical about it. He must have been worn down as well by the events of the past few weeks. Neal's brainwashing had not been at the hands of government overloads but by the very thief Mozzie had previously admired. Reality had shifted for everyone.

By the time Henry called Neal back, he already knew everything that had gone on. "I hope you're feeling good about what you did," Henry said. "It was the only rational decision."

"I am. You played a major part. First, giving me the time to work it though on my own. Then that little nudge when you spilled the beans about the Braque."

"Anytime, kiddo. Nudges are one of my specialties."

"I understand now why you didn't tell me in advance using the Braque in the con," Neal added. "Thanks to you I was able to deny any prior knowledge. Peter had his doubts at first about the motivation. If you'd told me before the meeting . . . well, things might have gone very differently. Did he give you a hard time?"

"Nah, he understood where I was coming from. He also said you went out of your way to praise my efforts to get you to open up. Thanks. You ready to turn the page?"

"Yeah . . . and continue the repair work."

"Explain."

Neal hesitated for a moment. It wasn't easy to talk about, but it was time to stop hiding. "Peter asked me to trust him to take care of himself. I didn't ask him if he trusted me. I know I lost a lot of ground by my actions. Going forward, rebuilding that trust will be my major challenge."

"You'll get there," he said quietly. Neal was glad he didn't try to deny the problem existed. "I don't think there's as much damage as you might believe."

They didn't talk long. Neal would be seeing him in a few hours and exhaustion was setting in. He assured Henry that he'd sleep better than he had in a long time.

The next morning, Neal felt like he was living a dream. On the ride to June's, Peter held true to his word. He didn't berate him for his decisions over the past few months. Instead he focused on their strategy to take advantage of the situation. Perhaps as a sign of a new era, Peter had chosen a bright blue shirt to wear with his suit—a far cry from his standard white dress shirt.

When Peter parked the Taurus in front of June's house, Neal studied his face for any signs of hesitation. Once they mounted the stairs to the loft, Neal would take the Braque painting out of its hiding place. Peter's journey to the dark side would begin. The window to change directions was quickly closing.

Neal paused before opening the car door. "You're sure about this? Plausible deniability won't cut it after this morning."

Peter nodded. "Just remember, I'm in charge of the crew, not you." He smiled. "And stop looking so serious. I'm the one who's supposed to be the helicopter dad, not you. I'll be fine, Junior."

When he and Peter climbed the stairs to the loft, they found Mozzie waiting for them at the door. He gave Peter the nod of a host inviting a guest into his house. "Welcome to my world, Suit. Nice shirt."

"I had the advice of a wardrobe consultant," Peter said cryptically. "Thanks for the help."

Mozzie smiled complacently. "Anytime."

Bewildered, Neal stared at them. Since when was Mozzie acting as a style consultant for Peter? This new world order would take getting used to. But they both seemed okay with it, so he wasn't about to make waves.

Peter turned to Neal. "You ready to show me the object of Adler's desire?"

Neal went to the armoire in the bedroom, removed the fake panel, and brought out the Braque. Mozzie didn't protest, but Neal knew it galled him to have the hiding place revealed. He was probably already calculating where to construct a new cache.

Peter exhaled when he saw it. "After studying images of it for months, somehow I thought the work would be more prepossessing."

At twenty-four by twenty inches, a subtle study in shades of umber and gray, Neal understood where Peter was coming from. But the time Peter had spent on it didn't compare with the hundreds of hours Neal had worked on it. He suspected he could make a perfect forgery without even looking at it. That painting was seared into his brain.

While Peter studied the painting, Neal made coffee. Henry had offered to bring over breakfast. Knowing Henry, that meant chocolate. When Neal heard Henry's footsteps on the stairs, he met him midway on the staircase.

Henry gave him a sharp look and by his smile must have approved what he saw. "No nightmares?"

"Just the opposite. I finally awoke from one. I bet you slept better, too."

He shrugged acknowledgment. "We really should stop doing this to each other."

"We could test the waters for a month?"

He grinned. "That long? Let's not make any rash promises!"

Henry had outdone himself with breakfast, providing quick fixes for both Neal's love of almond croissants and Henry's for chocolate. Neal dished out the chocolate almond croissants while Henry had his first look at the source of so much controversy. The violin was sitting quietly on the easel, her strings still mute.

"And neither one of you could find a hidden message?" Henry asked.

"That's right," Neal admitted bitterly. "I've spent six weeks examining it under every filter, every magnification. Tested it with every reagent known to have been used during World War II."

"I've analyzed the fragments for possible fractal equivalences," Mozzie added, "and if there are any, I haven't discovered them."

"Let's back up," Peter said. "We need to establish some ground rules. You ready with the coffee?"

Neal poured out four mugs and they sat down around his dining table.

"To confirm we're all on the same page before we proceed," Peter said. "We're the only four who know Neal has the genuine painting and that's the way it will remain. We won't endanger the careers or reputations of any of the other team members, friends, or family. If you don't agree to those terms, this ends now."

No one did. Quite the opposite. If Peter had advocated for anyone else to be included, Mozzie would have erupted.

"The second ground rule is that there are no secrets relating to the op between the four of us. There has to be absolute trust. We're all putting skin in the game, and without that trust, it can't proceed. If any of us at any time feels that something can't be shared, we need to alert the others of the reason. We'll then reach a joint decision on how to proceed."

Peter waited till they all took the pledge before he'd allow the discussion to continue. Mozzie agreed with the others, but was it only a pro forma gesture? Neal was sure Mozzie considered himself above any such restrictions, and Peter undoubtedly realized that. But he may have considered the fact that Mozzie was willing to even give lip service to the arrangement a victory.

Henry licked the chocolate off his fingers. "Adler we have figured out, but how much does Azathoth know about the Braque?" He looked to Neal for the answer.

"I assume Klaus discovered that it had been looted by the Nazis when he checked on its provenance. That was back in 2001 when I first raised questions about it. He may have believed a Nazi officer had made off the painting. During the chaos of the closing months of the war, the painting could have changed hands many times. At some point it could have been classified as a copy."

"If Klaus suspected it was a key to lost treasure," Mozzie added. "He would have recovered the painting himself."

"In the virtual world, Kramer claimed you hid the Vermeer in the Church of St. Roch on the same night you retrieved the Braque," Peter said. "Did Rolf intend for you to confuse the two paintings?"

"Worse than that," Henry said. "I'm willing to wager their intention was to have the paintings reinforce each other and in the process intensify Neal's guilt about ruining your life. In the virtual world Klaus suggested Neal ask you about the painting. He wanted you to know about it. And possibly not just for blackmail reasons. Adler wants Neal to solve the mystery for him. Azathoth may as well."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "If nothing else, they know of Adler's interest. Once they get wind of the U-boat rumors, they'll likely postpone using the Vermeer or the Braque. Greed will be their downfall. And not only for treasure, but for us, as well."

"Naturally, they'll reach out to me, too," Mozzie added complacently. "They probably assume once Neal is working with them, I can also be persuaded."

"And it's not just the three of you," Henry said, brushing the croissant crumbs off his shirt. "By the time we're done, he'll be salivating at the prospect of having me join their crew."

Peter chuckled. "You're right." He paused for a moment, eyeing Neal and Henry. "When Neal was leading the art heist boot camp in New York for the White Collar team, he used Caravaggio's Cardsharps as an example. That painting made me reflect on how close you two came to becoming a force like the Mansfeld brothers. Rolf has studied us so intensely that he must know about Henry. Wouldn't he have the same thought? He could see himself and Klaus reflected in you two. Together you could initiate an unparalleled empire of thieves. With me and Mozzie along as well."

So Peter had been daydreaming too. Neal found that oddly reassuring. He and Peter were always on the same page even when they weren't. "When we were in Seattle at the art museum, I was imagining what it would have been like to have Peter on my crew," he confided to the others. "His security expertise along with Mozzie's creativity would have made us the gold standard of the underworld. I wouldn't be surprised if Rolf has had those same thoughts."

"Adler and Huber will be our first targets," Peter said. "Through Huber we'll then move to snare the Mansfelds and Ydrus. And that brings us back to this painting."

"We're certain there's no message in hidden ink," Mozzie said. "There may be something in the geometry of the fragments themselves which corresponds to the code in the sheet of the fractal equations. I'll continue to work on it until the breakthrough occurs. But as to how long that will take, even for a genius like me, I don't have an answer."

"We may be able to find someone else who was in the Resistance who knows about it," Henry said.

"I talked with Camille Souchon, the mathematician's secretary, on Sunday," Mozzie said. "She's still searching for additional contacts. She found one, but he'd already passed away. We're under the gun to move quickly not only to recover the art before Adler and Huber, but because the Resistance members aren't getting any younger."

"Finding the art is a separate track from capturing Adler and the Mansfelds," Henry pointed out. "For now, our focus should be on the con. One potential concern is the Braque forgery. Adler's aware of Neal's skill in art. He may suspect a forgery. I think it's still worth the risk, but in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should mention it. Is there anything we can do to lessen the chance he believes it's a forgery?"

Peter nodded with satisfaction at his words, as if he expected it. "You already answered your question at the briefing on Friday. You'll claim the Braque led you to the discovery of the U-boat. The original may not have a message but the forgery will." He turned to Neal. "How difficult will it be to plant it?"

Neal broke into a grin. "It's as if Mozzie and I've been preparing for this for the past two months. We've researched all the invisible inks and reagents known to have been used during the Second World War."

"For the Braque, I recommend an ink made from copper sulfate and cobalt salts," Mozzie said, assuming a professorial pose. He stroked his lip for a moment. "Just a dash of potassium ferrocyanide for color. It will take two applications of iodine vapor for the message to be revealed."

"If we add cerium oxalate, the message will be visible for about two hours before fading once more," Neal added.

Peter laughed. "When you selected the subjects you were to be tested on for your admittance exams to Columbia, I couldn't understand why you chose chemistry. Now it's clear. You two are grinning like kids who just got their first home chemistry kit."

"And you're smirking with them," Henry retorted for them. "Peter, confess. When did you make your first stink bomb?"

The captain of their crew let out a loud snort. "My mom was a science teacher. Stink bombs were mandatory." He turned to Mozzie. "But don't get carried away. You don't want this ink to be so difficult, it won't be discovered."

"Don't worry," Neal said. "Kate will probably be the one to examine the painting. She was fascinated by coded messages and invisible inks when I knew her. I'm willing to bet she still is."

"Kate loves the classics," Mozzie added. "This particular ink was one of the Nazis' favorites. She'll be thrilled by her discovery."

Hiding a message for Kate . . . It'd been a while. They used to play games with their coded messages to each other. Now Neal intended to use one to trap her. It gave him no pleasure, but she'd made the decision when she tied her fate to Adler's.

According to the timetable they worked out, Henry and Neal would pretend to discover the U-boat in mid-August. The painting could only be offered for sale once the sub was supposedly located. Neal chafed at the delay but there was so much planning to be done, it was unavoidable.

"This gives time for you and me both to heal and be at one hundred percent before starting the con," Henry told him. "Agreed?"

Neal nodded. He knew he'd need to prove to Peter he was ready and could be trusted before Peter would sanction his participation in field work.

While they finished breakfast, Mozzie outlined ways to spread rumors of the U-boat's discovery. He intended to blast the tabloids with rumors, starting with reports of Hitler clones being spotted in Argentina. Diana was meeting Ruiz for lunch the next day. Mozzie had given her tips in the art of dissimulation and obfuscation, not that she needed any.

"My reputation is already being dragged through the mud," Henry reported, looking inordinately pleased. "Allen Winston and I discussed the steps yesterday afternoon. Radha will assume temporary command of the New York office. The official explanation will be that I have been placed on special assignment status. Soon rumors will spread that I'm being punished for my actions in Argentina. Upper management has grown increasingly impatient with my non-adherence to standard protocol."

"Have you spoken with Noelle and Joe?" Peter asked Henry.

"They're on board as well. Joe's looking forward to calling you at work. He said he was already preparing his litany of complaints about his recalcitrant stepson."

"While I will plead for tolerance," Peter said, his lips twitching into a wry smile. He turned to Neal. "I trust you can keep the painting safe? You've already managed for months."

"Once the forgery is done, I won't store it here. If Azathoth makes a move, this isn't as secure as another location I have available. Do you want to know the details?"

"No, you've done an excellent job up to now. I'm confident you'll continue to do so." Peter kept his eyes fixed on Neal, not the man he must know would be handling it.

Henry's cell phone rang as they were cleaning up the breakfast supplies. "It's work," he said and retreated to stand by the patio doors to take the call.

At his excited exclamation, they froze in place. By the way he was grinning, it had to be good news. While he talked, he headed for his backpack.

"We caught him!" he said when he ended the call. Retrieving his laptop from his backpack, he took it to the dinette table and powered it on.

"Who?" Neal demanded.

"Klaus. And not literally caught but the next best thing. He was recorded on camera. That was the tech lab in Baltimore. Our facial recognition software recorded a match with one of the images Richard had prepared from Neal's drawings. Klaus was recorded at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. They sent me an email of the photo." Henry was scanning his email while he talked. His face lit up brighter than a jukebox when the image came through.

Neal stared at the photo. Klaus. No longer just inside his head. The Leopard was stalking the airport concourse with a woman by his side. He had a neatly trimmed beard, the same he'd worn on the drive to Peter's home in the virtual reality sequence. Neal was convinced Klaus was alive, but until there was proof, there would always be a niggling little self-doubt that he'd been mistaken. That Rolf was manipulating him yet again.

No more.

Neal found himself taking in great lungfuls of air as if he'd just completed a marathon . . .

"Neal?" Peter's voice was tentative as he laid a hand on his shoulder. Neal realized he'd been oblivious to what the others were saying. He turned around to see everyone staring, not at the monitor but at him.

Henry smiled. "Feeling good?"

Neal nodded, still speechless, not able to express adequately the relief flooding through him. No longer was he restrained in that virtual cell, prisoner to Rolf and Klaus's tricks. "I'm free," he said finally. Dumb remark but no one teased him for it.

"You'll allow me," Mozzie pulled the laptop close. "So, we meet at last," he murmured to the screen. What do you have to tell me?" He zoomed in on the photo.

The woman was almost as tall as Klaus with long brunette hair. Slim, in her early thirties. She appeared poised and confident by Klaus's side. A fellow predator? She had a feline air about her. Perhaps a cheetah.

"She doesn't match anyone in our database," Henry said, "but the lab said they'd already added her image. Should we alert Interpol?"

Peter hesitated. "Under normal circumstances, that would be our first action. But do they have an informant as well? Ydrus has penetrated the FBI and Sara's company, Sterling-Bosch. It stands to reason they would have also tried to infiltrate Interpol. So far the only officials who know about Klaus and Rolf outside of White Collar are John Hobhouse in London and Marcel Jauffret in Paris. I'll call them to discuss it."

Mozzie pointed at the screen. "The Leopard is accompanied by a snake. Could she be a python?"

Mozzie had magnified her right hand. The base of the third finger was circled by a tiny tattoo of a snake. Marta had a tattoo of a snake on her back. Now this woman. It raised the likelihood she was an Ydrus operative, possibly even the leader of the organization. Neal studied her image. She looked powerful and arrogant. Was this Python? The Leopard and the Python together? Klaus's ex-wife Chantal had mentioned he'd been cheating on her. Was this the woman?

Mozzie turned to face them. "Gentlemen, I posit Klaus is no longer the Leopard. By uniting with this snake-woman"—he hissed the words dramatically—"they have formed a Speckled Band." His eyes gleaming, he added, "We must delay no longer. The game's afoot!"

When Peter rolled his eyes at Neal, he simply shrugged and smiled. Mozzie had left Purgatory behind. If he wanted to add a little Sherlock to a U-boat con, Neal wasn't about to stop him.

Notes: Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the States and I'm glad the timing was such that everyone in this chapter has much to be thankful about. Thanks to Henry, Neal was able to reassure Peter he hadn't known in advance about Henry's scheme to involve the Braque. After working for months to ensure Peter could claim plausible deniability, Neal found himself in the situation of benefiting from it.

Is there a hint of Thanksgiving in the breakfast Neal, Peter, Mozzie, and Henry share? I'll let you decide. If you're looking for a more traditional Thanksgiving-themed story, in The Queen's Jewels Neal celebrates Thanksgiving twice—first at Columbia then in Albany with Peter and his family. (Chapters 14 and 15).

I couldn't resist adding a nod to the coded message which canon Kate left on the wine bottle for Neal. I assumed that in our AU, Kate is just as fascinated with codes and invisible inks. The history of invisible inks used during World War II is extensive. Unlike Neal and Mozzie, I'm not an expert. The chemicals I mentioned were used in invisible inks, but I wouldn't bet on them having the desired effect.

A love for codes and ciphers is something Mozzie shares with one of his heroes, Sherlock Holmes. Given how many traits Mozzie has in common with Sherlock, it was only a matter of time till Mozzie would slip the great detective into the U-boat con. I wrote about the connection between Mozzie and Sherlock this week for our blog in a post called "The Game's Afoot."

Penna's been working on a puzzle of a different sort: the art of coaxing a new character to speak. That's one of the most difficult aspects of creating an original character. Hearing their voice in your head can seemingly require infinite wheedling. For a Coursera assignment, Penna's experimented with three different scenes for her characters. She posted the last version this week. The post is "Novel Progress: First Person POV part 3." She also shares details about her characters' emerging personalities as they begin to come out of hiding.

Please join me next week for the final chapter of Nocturne in Black and Gold. A few more surprises on tap, and I'll have news about the upcoming lineup, including a new vignette from Penna!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

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