Notes: This story takes place after the events in Italian Masquerade and Witch in Venice. I've written a short summary of the status of the key players at the beginning of the story for my blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation. The post is called "Blast Off to Silent Planet." See the notes at the end of the chapter for more information.

Chapter 1: Pirates

Federal Building. Tuesday, January 17, 2006.

"I wish they were called something—anything—else," Neal complained. "They give pirates a bad name."

"I feel your pain," Sara agreed. Neal imagined her green eyes looking at him sympathetically, her mouth drooping at the corners.

Picturing her face was a much more welcome sight than the bare walls of the interrogation room he'd appropriated for a private phone call. White Collar had yet to adopt huddle rooms so he was forced to partake of the prison-like ambiance if he wished to escape the din of the bullpen. With the time zone difference between London and New York, the lunch hour provided the best opportunity for him to catch Sara. She was already at her flat, the workday ended.

"Don't forget, I was the one who hoisted the Jolly Roger on the sailboat last summer," she added. "When we were pirates, the only people we harmed were the real bad guys. Is there anything about the case you can share?"

"It concerns video game piracy, and Richard first brought it to our attention."

The soft intake of her breath was picked up by the phone as Sara undoubtedly cringed. She was friends with Richard too. Neal's fellow art student worked during the day at Scima Gameworks as a concept artist. Neal didn't need to reveal any other details. She was bound to suspect it concerned his company. Richard and his boss Ian Forster were coming to White Collar in a couple of hours to discuss the situation with the team. Ian had also asked for Aidan to be present. The previous summer, Aidan had worked as an intern at Scima, but Neal suspected Ian wanted him present because of his hacking skills, not his ability with audio effects. Aidan's cybersecurity expertise had already resulted in him being hired to work with Travis as a contractor on special projects.

Neal and Sara were still dancing around the tricky minefield of job confidentiality with neither of them able to reveal much about their active cases. She was familiar with a few of his past assignments because she'd been assigned to assist White Collar on them. About all Neal knew about her work was that she was one of Sterling-Bosch's lead agents in stolen item recovery.

"I have good news to report," Sara said. "I may be coming to New York at the end of the month, and it will be courtesy of Sterling-Bosch."

"That rockets out of the good category to the outstanding! Does that mean you'll be able to participate in Aidan's film project?"

"I hope to. Sterling-Bosch wants to hold a training conference in New York, and they'd like me to lead a couple of the sessions. They sent around several date options. I picked the last two days in January—the Monday and Tuesday after the weekend Aidan reserved for filming."

For the short feature Aidan was making in preparation for the upcoming master's exhibition, they'd be on location at the house of Electra Stavrou in New Haven. She lived in a Victorian-era mansion that had a stunning collection of Pre-Raphaelite stained glass angels. She'd offered to let the cast stay at the house over the weekend while they filmed scenes.

Last summer, Sara had worked on another of Aidan's film projects. She and Neal had played American spies on a U-boat they'd hijacked from the Nazis. That one featured a couple of clench scenes for them. This latest project was a sci-fi horror endeavor. Neal's expectations were much lower. Should he be content as long as Sara didn't play a cadaver?

"All I know is that the stained glass angels play a prominent role," Sara said. "Do you have any other details about the plot?"

"Not so far. Aidan's being close-mouthed about the details. Keiko and I will both be able to use elements from the project for our courses. She's taking a class on nineteenth-century stained glass, and I have a seminar on the Pre-Raphaelites." He hesitated for a moment as he pictured Sara lounging on the sofa, barefoot, her copper hair cascading over her shoulders. "I have a special affinity for Dante Rossetti. His muse was a gorgeous redhead. We have that in common."

"I'm your muse?" The delight in her voice made him go mushy inside. "Am I wearing one of those romantic medieval gowns?"

"Sometimes," Neal said, a smile breaking out. It wasn't necessary to mention exactly how revealing those gowns could be.

"I hope you placed yourself in those paintings."

"I'm your knight, down on one knee, gazing up at my fair lady with adoration."

"Then I'll command you to rise and strip off your armor, very slowly, of course. Piece by provocative piece."

"As my lady wishes," he said, dropping his voice to a seductive murmur.

"In that case, I'll order you to disrobe me as well."

As they continued to fantasize, Neal wished he was at home instead of an interrogation room with a glass window onto the hallway. Sara had no such restraints. She could describe in minute detail every action she'd take.

"I love the medieval gowns the women are portrayed wearing," she said dreamily. "I hope I'll be able to wear something similar in the film."

"I do, too. Something form-fitting, in a sensuous fabric, perhaps in silk."

"Or soft crushed velvet."

A knock on the door was followed immediately by Peter striding in. "Sorry to break this up." He leaned over Neal's cell phone and said, "Hi, Sara."

"How'd you know it was me?" she asked.

"I could see Neal's moonstruck look from the hallway. He'll have to continue the conversation later. Work awaits."

Neal grimaced as he ended the call. "Isn't it still the lunch hour?"

"Don't blame me, Romeo. Ian called, asking to move up our meeting time. You should feel grateful. The others are already waiting in the conference room. I rousted you last."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Peter had requested that the entire team be present for the meeting. Jones, Diana, and Travis were all much more knowledgeable of the video game industry than he was. In addition, Travis was also well acquainted with Ian, not only because he was his boyfriend Richard's boss, but because Ian had assisted the team last summer in California. Rolf Mansfeld had planted one of his operatives at the Los Angeles facility of Scima Gameworks. She'd arranged to have Neal abducted to the Scima virtual-reality lab where he was subjected to psychological manipulation.

Ian had acted as intermediary between the FBI and the company during the successful rescue. The guy looked more like a heavy metal rocker than a project leader, but in the world of gaming, perhaps that was standard. From Peter's perspective, what counted was Ian's willingness to do whatever it took to achieve the desired results. Ian had bashed more than a few corporate heads at Scima, securing with lightning speed their permission for a raid on their headquarters. When Ian reached out to Peter for assistance, it was White Collar's turn to return the favor.

Ian had initially labeled the current crime a case of video game piracy, but you wouldn't have known it by the way he described it to the team.

"I'm here to prevent a kidnapping," Ian said bluntly. "Someone's about to snatch my baby and I want you blokes to stop them."

Peter cleared his throat. "Who, or what, do you think will be kidnapped?"

"Silent Planet. We've been working on this game for years and are preparing to unveil an early beta release at the Game Developers Conference in a month."

Peter was acquainted with the project since Travis had told him about it once the veil of secrecy was lifted. This was to be the first video game based on the novel Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis. "Why do you believe you'll be targeted?"

Ian shrugged. "I figure it's inevitable. We've deliberately kept a lid on news because it incorporates many cutting-edge features unlike any game currently on the market. Piracy has been an issue for a long time in our industry, but I'm not talking about the simple kind of crime where gamers use illegal copies. Our Dutch affiliate warned us about a new ring of hackers. They infect code with a virus which renders it inoperable. Once the virus is installed, they send a ransom demand. Several games being developed in Europe have been hit over the past several months."

Extortion through ransomware had taken off in the summer of 2005 with examples proliferating exponentially. The Bureau's Cyber Division normally handled this kind of case but the ties White Collar had made with Scima would likely enable them to pursue the investigation . . . if there was sufficient evidence.

Travis turned to Aidan. "Doesn't your anti-malware software prevent this type of attack?"

"Theoretically, it should," Aidan said with frustrated wince, "but so far no one's been able to identify the virus used by this group of pirates. Until that happens, we're unable to come up with a countermeasure. My company hasn't worked with any of the game companies which have been victimized."

"I haven't seen any reports about the group in the Bureau," Jones commented. "They may be testing their technique before striking in the States."

"Scima Netherlands told me that the pirates time their attacks to occur just before the release," Ian said. "The companies who were targeted are major players who had robust firewalls in place. They believe the infection was spread internally, either inadvertently or through an employee who was paid off. The upcoming release of Silent Planet has been getting so much publicity that the crooks have probably already laid the groundwork." Ian made a face. "We're bloody sitting ducks waiting for the fox to make its move. Aidan came up with the idea that we might be able to launch a counteroffensive by discovering the mole before the damage is done. He claims that's your specialty."

Peter turned to Aidan. "Just what is this idea of yours?"

"It's not only mine, it's Richard's too," Aidan protested, his face reddening to a hue almost identical to his hair. Peter kept his groans to himself. Both Aidan and Richard had helped the team out without hesitation whenever they'd been called upon. Aidan hadn't mentioned Neal's involvement in the scheme, and Neal was maintaining his look of bland-vanilla innocence, but it was an easy wager he'd been the instigator. The three were art students at Columbia. They were on the same fencing team. What were the odds Aidan wouldn't have discussed it with Neal first?

"The code is currently being refined by a relatively small group of developers at Scima," Ian said. "Aidan suggested that a few members of your team could arrive, pretending to be from our Amsterdam office. Many of the employees there are from the U.K. or the States. You'll have no need to fake an accent. You're in town to discuss a new game. We leak word that it embraces a new technology never before used in a game. It's the kind of information that if there's a mole, they're bound to want to transmit."

"In other words, you want to go fishing," Diana said.

Ian nodded. "And hope to capture a sea monster."

"What do you intend to use as bait?" Peter asked.

Ian turned to Richard. "It was your suggestion. You should explain it."

Richard slanted a quick glance at Neal as if asking for help, clueing Peter in on the real origin of the idea. "Last winter our parent company, Scima Workshop began preliminary work on a movie based on Lovecraft's short story, 'The Haunter of the Dark.' The project was canceled when it was discovered that the company had been duped into believing Paramount Pictures wanted to pursue the project. Ian told me there are very few at Scima who know the actual details of what went on. There's never been a video game made of the short story, but Scima has looked into developing a Cthulhu Mythos-inspired franchise. Since your team is so familiar with Lovecraft, whoever you designate to go undercover should have a relatively easy time convincing the New York office that the game's being developed."

Judging by the team's excited faces, it was time for a reality check. "I don't doubt the threat exists," Peter said, opting to put a diplomatic spin on it, "but you have no concrete evidence that Scima's been targeted. I can't allocate Bureau resources simply on the belief that a crime could be committed sometime off in the future."

"The timing's not that vague," Ian objected. "If they're going to make a move, they'll do it soon. The Game Developers Convention is only a few weeks away. They'd need to allow time to infect the code, have it be discovered, then approach us, and negotiate a ransom."

"How many potential suspects are in your office?" Jones asked.

"Thirty-two employees," Ian said, "not including myself and Richard."

"How much expertise would be required to infect the code?" Neal asked.

"Not necessarily that much," Aidan said. "It could be as simple as clicking on a link in an email."

"In other words, practically anyone could be the mole," Peter said, taking a breath. The team members were all eager to pursue the project. Was that the real reason Richard and Aidan were at the meeting? Ian knew of their friendship with the White Collar agents. He was banking on them supporting his request.

In the end, Peter decided to let them proceed with formulating a strategy, but implementation would have to wait till there was more evidence. When Ian returned to Scima, Aidan and Richard remained behind to provide background information for a sting that would likely never happen.

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Neal freely acknowledged that video games were not in his skill set, but they were in someone else's. When Ian left, Neal retreated to his favorite interrogation room for a private chat.

"You're putting me on the spot," Mozzie complained, his disgruntlement coming through loud and clear on the phone. "As a matter of principle, all video games should be free to roam the Earth at will."

"We're not talking about an endangered species," Neal riposted. "If a video game were to be made of Yellowface, the Masked Avenger, would you really be willing to let yourself and Aidan be ripped off so it could 'roam free' as you call it? Richard puts his heart and soul into his concept art. Doesn't he also deserve compensation?"

Mozzie sighed and was silent for a moment. "Your point is valid. You and I are both evolving, mon frère. Forgeries have lost their allure for you."

"Not true," Neal insisted. "I take just as much pride as ever, but their purpose is different. Now they're used to trick bad guys." It was clear Mozzie knew something. The objections he raised were more pro forma then heartfelt. But it eased his shadow-lurker's conscience for Neal to coax him into divulging the nuggets.

"There's a new entity on the dark web," Mozzie divulged, dropping his voice to a whisper. "It's called the Cube."

"As in the Borg hive in Star Trek?"

"Perhaps. Or it could be from the movie. The symbolism of Rubik's cube makes it also a provocative option. But more germane to our discussion is the Cube's function. It's a chat room devoted to gaming and has been operational for the past four months. And yes, there's a lot of chatter about Silent Planet. Someone called Pod2 claims they'll have code available for sale. Bidding has already commenced."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

Neal headed to Peter's office after the call with Mozzie. The confirmation created an additional layer of complexity.

A frown settled on Peter's face as he considered the implication. "Pod2's actions don't sound like what Ian described. He was worried about ransomware."

"Ian may not realize the additional threat. Even though the ransom is paid, the code will still be in jeopardy. And it's not just the code, it's the intellectual property which is at risk of being auctioned off." The theft of intellectual property was a primary responsibility for White Collar. Peter couldn't argue about the appropriateness of an investigation.

"Has Mozzie seen reports of any other video games being similarly advertised on the Cube?" Peter asked.

"Not for any games developed in the States, but it's bound to happen. European games have already been victimized. The Cube's only recently sprung into existence. This could be our chance to crush it before it becomes even more of a threat."

"Is Mozzie willing to work with us?"

Neal hesitated as he pondered how best to describe his friend's mindset. "He's not ecstatic about it, but he recognizes it's in his own personal interest."

Peter eyed him knowingly. "Thanks to some nudges on your part, I expect."

Neal shrugged acknowledgment. "Up to very recently, Mozzie hasn't been a producer of intellectual property. Since he started writing scripts, he's developed a new perspective, but it's not an easy adjustment."

Peter stood up. "This additional information should be enough to get clearance from Hughes. Let's go tell the others." He glanced at his watch. "We still have a couple of hours to work on the strategy before meeting with Tricia and Diana."

"I assume you know what Tricia wants to talk about," Neal said, hoping for a few crumbs.

"Yes, and that's all you'll get out of me." He stood up. "It's nothing dire. Focus on what's in front of you."

But Neal already had enough information to give free rein to his imagination. Tricia Wiese had been the profiler for Rolf and Klaus Mansfeld. Although both men were currently awaiting trial, their files were still active. Neal didn't know of any other White Collar cases Tricia was working on. Even more telling was that Diana was included. She oversaw the Arkham Files stories which were now being co-written by Mozzie. Tricia continued to be a member of the Arkham Files writers' group, an indication she considered the stories useful despite the Mansfelds' status.

Neal's suspicions were confirmed when later that afternoon Peter directed him to the interrogation room Diana liked to appropriate for her writing cave. A starfish beanbag she'd named Peachy, along with the octopus coffee mug she reserved for writing, was positioned on either side of her laptop, signs that she intended to put on her writer's hat after the meeting. Tricia was already present. They clustered their chairs around Diana's desk.

"This morning, I got another comment from Azathoth," Diana announced. "That makes two within the past month. The first one was just an annoyance, asking me if I missed him. This one is more direct. The translated text says It's coming."

"The message was in the same abstruse code Rolf used before," Tricia said. "There's virtually no possibility that it was written by a copycat. But we shouldn't assume he sent the messages."

Neal stared at her, puzzled. "I didn't think that was in doubt."

"At first, I didn't either," she admitted. "Rolf is in prison with no access to the internet or telephone. Someone associated with his lawyer could have planted the string of letters and numbers."

"They may have been unaware of the content," Peter added.

She nodded agreement. "That's not as much a concern as the possibility Rolf has a business partner, someone who's been totally off our radar. The partner could have been trained by Rolf but is now acting independently."

Peter exhaled. "Neal, did Klaus ever give an indication of an additional partner?"

"No. During that week I spent with him in Hungary, he only discussed a new crew consisting of the Mansfelds, you and me. Klaus bared his soul to me during that week. He voiced his bitterness over how he'd been deceived. If he were aware of another partner, I'm sure he would have mentioned something."

"Rolf's assistants, Jacek and Marta Kolar, are incarcerated with the same restrictions as Rolf," Diana noted. "If they're involved in some way, they wouldn't be a threat."

"It's only a theory," Tricia admitted, "but I'd like you to consider the possibility and watch for any signs. The natural tendency is to treat the comments as simple taunts, but in the past there was a deadly intention behind them and history could be repeating itself. In this case, being overly cautious is a virtue." She turned to Neal. "You took the correct action in notifying us about the sale of your painting."

Diana stopped kneading the starfish beanbag to arch a questioning eyebrow.

"Some of my paintings are being exhibited at an art gallery," Neal explained.

"Way to go, Caffrey! Which one?"

"A gallery on the Upper West Side called Konstgrotta. It's run by the partner of my art advisor, Myra Stockman. Britta selected a few works by Myra's students to exhibit at her gallery. The painting I made of Klaus's fall from the Metropolitan Museum was sold in early January."

"Neal alerted us," Peter added, "because Azathoth had expressed an interest in it during Neal's first-year exhibition. Back then, someone left a down payment, using the name of one of Lovecraft's characters and Klaus's Leopard business card."

"That order was later canceled," Tricia said. "But this time, the sale is legitimate. Neal, you'll be happy to know your painting was bought by an insurance company for their headquarters in New Jersey. We checked them out and there's no connection to the Mansfelds."

Meaning Neal was free to enjoy the profit without any feeling of guilt. His financial advisor, aka Dante Haversham, had already invested the proceeds.

"Your advice to keep writing the stories was sound," Peter told Tricia. "We may be able to provoke that silent partner into revealing himself by manipulating the plots."

Tricia smiled. "Exactly my thought."

"Do you have anything in mind?" Diana asked her.

"Originally, Henry wasn't going to be a continuing character, but I'd like to change our strategy for him. In a sense he's been our silent partner. Until very recently, the Mansfelds and their organization appeared unaware of him."

Henry hadn't only been a silent partner in the con against the Mansfelds. He'd also been working secretly with El to influence the romantic plotline in Arkham Files.

Diana exchanged smiles with him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. "It's time we invite Henry to the writing group."

"I'm having dinner with him tonight," Neal said. "I can tell him then." Henry and his boyfriend Eric had just returned from the Burke cabin in the Catskills where they'd spent the Martin Luther King Day weekend.

"We'll need a new hook," Peter cautioned. "The old strategy where you were focused on making Rolf regard us sympathetically will no longer be effective."

"Agreed," Tricia said. "In plotting the stories, it's best to assume Rolf is working with a partner. That shouldn't be referenced directly, but we could introduce another arc to make him wonder how much we know."

"I'll bring it up at the next meeting," Diana promised. "It will be an excellent challenge for the newest member of the Arkham Round Table."

WCWCWCWCWCWCWC

When Neal arrived at Henry's loft in NoHo that evening, he heard shouts coming from inside. What had the puppy done now? Splash was a month older since the last time he saw her, and her capacity for mayhem was growing exponentially.

A blood-curdling yell which sounded like Eric made him flinch. Not bothering to knock, Neal fished out a key to the loft from his pocket. He didn't have a gun, but he might be able to distract the thugs. A tap of a button on the side of his watch would send a signal to the Bureau.

He silently opened the door and burst into a laugh. Henry and Eric were charging around the loft, brandishing foam swords, while Splash raced between their legs in an apparent effort to trip them.

"Where's my sword?" Neal demanded. "I'll take down both of you blaggards!"

"No swords for you," Henry admonished, dropping his sword. "You'd whip us both."

"Is this the latest exercise craze? I thought you'd have had enough after skiing all weekend."

"This is Angela's fault," Eric insisted with a laugh.

Neal crossed his arms. "Sure. Blame our cousin. Need I remind you that Henry, Sara, and I were the buccaneers last summer, not Angela."

"Eric's right," Henry insisted. "She called us yesterday with a new props project." He paused for a moment and frowned. "Come to think of it, Eric's the one responsible, not Angela. She liked that Captain Hook costume he wore to the speakeasy party at Halloween so well, she decided to create a new children's musical based on Peter Pan."

"And since Eric was the inspiration, you're required to build the props," Neal guessed. For his cousin, that would be completely logical.

Henry shrugged. "We owe her. She and Michael took care of Splash for us while we were in India."

"But we would have agreed anyway." Eric grinned sheepishly. "Who could resist building a pirate ship?"

"Or playing pirates," Neal added. "Now you know why I took up fencing. If you need help with designing the right dimensions for kiddos, Jones's nephew Ethan would love to be your tester. At eight-years-old, he's just the right age, and he adores fencing."

"Or we could simply have Diana send you back in time like she did in Time Crystals," Henry suggested.

"Funny you brought that up. Arkham Files came up at work."

Over a pirates' banquet of fajitas, Neal reviewed the afternoon discussion with Tricia and Diana.

"It's about time they included me in the Round Table," Henry grumbled.

Neal chuckled. "Diana predicted that would be your reaction. She also told me to tell you she's only putting the official stamp on what you've been doing for months. Now that Sara and I are a success story, you need to expand your horizons."

"You must be enjoying this," Eric told Neal. "In the future, Henry will be manipulating his own character rather than Arkham Neal and Sara. What's the goal?"

"I'm to toss down the gauntlet, right?" Henry guessed.

"Yeah, and don't get too smug about it. With your participation, the Arkham Files team will be stronger than ever. Mozzie has also designed some interesting power-ups for me. As our characters take it to Azathoth and his minions, Tricia predicts that Rolf and anyone who may be working with him won't be able to resist showing what they're capable of. We were able to lure them out of the shadows before. If Rolf does have a silent partner, he may finally start talking."

Eric winced. "They may not restrict themselves to words. If you're not careful, you could goad them into attacking you personally."

Henry shrugged. "Not likely, at least not at first. Rolf's been defeated by the good guys already. If he's involved in any revenge scenario, it's more likely he wants to taunt us. He craves an audience. The dude's such an egomaniac, he'll do anything he can to snatch the spotlight."

"That's also Tricia's take," Neal agreed.

"What was Peter's reaction?" Henry asked. "His role may need to be altered."

"He liked the idea. Apparently he believes the more trouble our characters get into, the less likely we will in real life."

Henry considered the theory for a brief moment. "Nah, not happening."

Neal exchanged grins with him. "That was my reaction too, but Peter should be allowed to enjoy his fantasy for a while longer."

Drawings and blueprints were scattered at the far end of the dining table. Henry had purchased an extra-long table for his loft as if he knew it would be appropriated for many other purposes. When Neal thought about how much he—and Mozzie—had crammed onto his tiny dinette table, the feature had him sighing with envy. "Are all these sketches for Angela's musical?"

Eric nodded as he contemplated the stack. "This is her thesis project. She intends to supersize Neverland with various islands that Peter Pan and the lost boys will visit."

"Since she uses animals for the characters, you can imagine what the islands will be like," Henry added. "She's even included an island made of ice cream that is inhabited by penguins and polar bears. The lost boys will be meerkats in her version."

"What will Peter Pan be?" Neal asked. "A mongoose?"

"I thought she'd go for a fox or a raccoon," Eric said. "Instead she chose a red panda."

"Some of the inspiration is coming from real life," Henry added. "For Captain Hook, she selected a swaggering leopard."

Neal chuckled. "What would Klaus think about that? When the production's done, I should let him know."

That remark caused Henry to shoot him a sharp look. "You're not in communication with him, are you?"

"Of course not. His trial is just starting. But once he's in prison, I may write to him."

"Do you know if he's in contact with his brother?" Eric asked, passing the plate of tortillas.

"Probably not, but their lawyers could easily pass messages." Klaus's prison term would likely be less than Rolf's. There was no direct evidence linking him to any of the art thefts except the Raphael painting in D.C. The Justice Department had succeeded in having him extradited to the States for both the D.C. theft and the attempted theft of the Vermeer at the Met last year since those cases had the most solid evidence. He was being tried in D.C. Rolf could also be tried in the States for the kidnapping charges, but authorities were still arguing over jurisdiction. The Brits had staked a claim for the fraud Rolf committed when he assumed the identity of a Scima employee. Even more damning, they accused him of complicity in the attempted murder of Peter at the Scima facility outside London last summer. Although it was debatable whether or not Rolf would have rescued Peter at the last minute, that crime alone should be enough to keep Rolf behind bars for decades.

So if Rolf wanted to play games with sending messages to Diana, Neal wasn't going to waste time worrying about it. Keller was behind bars, Adler would be too once his trial wrapped up. Rolf and Klaus were destined to wear orange jumpsuits for the foreseeable future. As far as Neal was concerned, Rolf's messages were a positive. They demonstrated the extent of his frustration. Neal was looking forward to seeing what Diana and Mozzie did with Henry in the new storyline . . . just as long as they remembered Neal was still the protagonist.

He felt something rub against his leg and looked down into Splash's pleading eyes.

"Ignore her," Eric said. "We're trying to teach her not to beg at the table."

Sorry, girl, but once we've left the table, no one can complain.

Splash whined as if she understood. Maybe that telepathy his Arkham Files character had with animals was catching. "Are you still taking Splash to work?" Neal asked.

Henry nodded. "It's working out well. There's a dog park near my office where I take her to run during the lunch hour. You could call it my version of Tuesday Tails."

When Neal snickered, Eric asked, "Is this a private joke?"

"When I started working at the Bureau, the team members weren't as adept at tailing a suspect as they are now," Neal explained. "Tuesday Tails was a team exercise I invented where they tried to track my movements during the lunch hour." No need to mention that it had also been a way to establish friendly relations with team members who were wary of having an ex-thief working in their midst.

Now Henry and Splash were engaged in Tuesday Tails. Neal looked forward to dropping in on them. For the past several months, he and Henry had been engaged in a duel of wits, conning each other and sometimes themselves about their love lives. Neal was glad it was behind them. Tricia's warning was a reminder to keep in touch. Peter's life had been upended because of issues Neal dragged him into. Peter never would have been involved with the Mansfelds if it hadn't been for him. Luckily Neal had been the target, not Peter. But now not only Peter but Henry could be marked as well. The time for games was over.

Notes: Welcome to a new year in Caffrey Conversation! Although 2006 began with A Witch in Venice, this is the first Caffrey Conversation story of the year. Silent Planet has three chapters and will lead directly to the following story, Glass Angels. I'll post weekly on Wednesday. Many thanks to my writing partner Penna Nomen for her beta help with this story.

Some readers have asked for longer stories. To me, Caffrey Conversation is one continuing saga (at present over two million words) broken into smaller installments with arcs of various lengths. My stories for 2006 will rotate between Caffrey Conversation, Crossed Lines and Arkham Files. Each story can be read as a standalone. Penna and I are very honored that many of you have read all those two-million-plus words. We hope you'll enjoy what we've planned for 2006.

Neal's year will unfold over the next twenty-plus stories. In Silent Planet, you'll find many breadcrumbs for what lies ahead. I wrote about some of them for the blog this week: "Caffrey Conversation: The 2006 Road Map." Penna wrote about some of the fierce dragons she's had to confront recently in what we declared to be the writing year of the dragon. The post is called "The Dragon Update" and makes me wonder if we shouldn't have picked kittens instead.

Background on the Caffrey Conversation AU for new readers: This series was created by Penna Nomen and begins with her story Caffrey Conversation. Our blog has a list and short summaries for all the stories in chronological order. The primary difference from canon in that Neal was never sent to prison and the characters are several years younger. The personalities of canon characters (Elizabeth, Mozzie, Diana, Jones, Hughes, June, and Sara) are the same.

Peter recruited Neal in 2003 when he was 24. In the fall of 2004, he entered Columbia University's graduate program in art as a part-time student. In the spring of 2005, Peter and Neal were appointed to the Interpol art crimes task force. The work on the task force is part time and places additional emphasis on art crimes for the White Collar team. In canon, Neal's only relatives to be mentioned are his father and mother. In ours, his mother Meredith has a twin sister named Noelle who is a psychologist. Noelle married Peter's older brother Joe during the 2004 Christmas holidays. Henry Winslow is Noelle's son and nearly three years older than Neal. He works at a private investigation and security company named Winston-Winslow (usually referred to as Win-Win). Neal has one other cousin, Angela, who is the daughter of Noelle and Meredith's deceased brother. Working with the White Collar team are two non-canon characters: Travis Miller, a technical expert, and Tricia Wiese, a profiler. Neal's friends at Columbia include fellow grad students Richard and Aidan. Pins for the entire cast and locations are on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site.

Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Story Visuals and Music: The Silent Planet board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
Twitter: silbrith