Chapter 3: Butterfly Shot

By the time Neal returned to the mansion, it was late in the evening. That never used to bother him, but now that Sara lived with him, he regretted the hours away from home. She was understanding. She'd known he'd be working at Columbia and had taken the opportunity to dine out with friends, but it was an unsatisfactory situation.

If he quit the FBI, he'd have time for Columbia during the day, leaving most of his evenings free. The agents would understand, especially since there wouldn't be art crimes to investigate. They'd probably be relieved. No longer would they be subjected to his complaints about mortgage frauds.

But when Neal walked into the bullpen the following morning, the realization that his time at the Bureau could be coming to an end hit him with a thud. The feeling made him appreciate how much he'd changed. In his former life, he never stayed in one place long enough to put down roots. Now the taproot that was White Collar was tugging at him. What would work be like in a different environment? This was the only full-time job he'd ever had. His job at Win-Win would be part-time, and he'd have the freedom to structure his schedule as he wished. Would the lack of structure bother him? He already knew he'd miss his soon-to-be-former team members. He'd no longer see Peter daily.

When Neal sat down at his desk, he caught a glimpse of Peter through the glass wall of Hughes's office. Both Diana and Jones were working undercover. The bullpen seemed empty without them.

He strolled by Diana's desk on his way to fetch the first mug of swill of the day. If he started to get nostalgic over the Bureau's subgrade coffee, it would be a sign he'd truly entered the pathetic zone. Luckily Sara had provided a remedy for the odd mood he was in. Thanks to her, he had a riddle to solve. The clue he found in June's study this morning was a puzzler.

Neal suspected Sara had also enlisted Diana's help. Could he find anything on her desk? He scrutinized the assortment of objects. Since she was no longer writing Arkham Files stories at work, she'd taken the starfish beanbag and octopus mug home. Neal didn't remember seeing the paperweight before. He picked up the metal figurine. It looked like a falcon. Could it be a Maltese Falcon?

When Peter got out of his meeting, Neal jogged upstairs to discuss the clues. Peter was the puzzle master. He'd enjoy this brain teaser.

"You got a minute?" Neal asked, poking his head through the door.

Peter smiled. "Let me guess. This is about the challenge, right?" At Neal's nod, he added, "You better close the door. This case has need-to-know restrictions."

Neal pulled the side chair close to the desk and explained the results of his brainstorming with Mozzie the previous evening. "Based on our discussion, the most promising periods appear to be the Middle Ages, the Renaissance, the Baroque, the Regency, and the 1940s." Neal exhaled. "And that's just for starters. I'm sure I could add other historical periods that are significant to us."

Peter pursed his lips "Like the late nineteenth century? If this were El's challenge, we'd have to include Renoir."

Neal snapped his fingers. "Of course, Degas! His painting of Harlequin and Columbine was key to the U-boat con." Neal pulled out his notepad and added him to the list. "Did you have any luck with El?"

"I'm not sure," Peter admitted. "While she was cooking dinner, I checked her laptop. It was closed, but there was a list of names on a sheet of paper tucked inside the lid. I reexamined the computer when she was taking her shower, and the list had disappeared. The question I'm asking myself is if it was deliberately planted for me to find?"

"But even so, it could contain a clue. What was on the list?"

Peter reached inside a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Several locations, all of which are suitable for a wedding. You can keep this. I have a copy."

Neal's eyes widened as he read the names. If this was a list of places actually being considered, their wedding would be no simple affair. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Frick, the Cloisters, the Morgan Library, Riverside Church, the American Museum of Natural History, the Brooklyn Museum of Art, and the Plaza Hotel were listed in no discernable order.

Peter chuckled. "That was my reaction too. Guess I'll have to buy a new suit. And you'll note all of these have a connection to you. My hunch is that one of these is the actual location. Assuming your theory is correct and that Sara is picking a historical theme, how do these locations match up with the historical periods you've identified?"

"The Cloisters is an obvious choice for the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Maybe the Frick for the Baroque."

"The Museum of Natural History could work for the 1940s," Peter suggested.

Neal snorted. "You just want to party with dinosaurs!"

"Who wouldn't? And you can't deny the stargazing tradition. Sara's joined us for stargazing. What could be better than a wedding in the Planetarium?"

"I'm going to speak with El. Clearly, you need to plan a second wedding. Perhaps for your tenth anniversary. That's coming in a few years. I didn't attend the wedding. I insist on a do-over."

"Focus, wedding boy," Peter admonished. "You mentioned you found a couple of clues?"

Neal smiled. He'd hold his ideas for Peter and El in reserve. Although . . . El might be willing to divulge a clue if he went ahead and shared them. "This morning I stopped by June's study on the way out." He shrugged. "She happened to be in her bedroom at the time."

Peter smiled knowingly. "And undoubtedly June's been plotting with Sara. What did you find?"

"An alarm clock on her desk. I'm sure it wasn't there before. It was a vintage style with twin bells on top."

Peter absently stroked his chin for a moment. "It could reference the bell tower in the Cloisters." He chuckled. "You, my friend, may be wearing tights at the wedding."

"Hey, if I am, you are too. I know El will want you to wear authentic attire. As the spouse of the wedding planner, you don't have a choice."

"But I'm sure the groom won't make his surrogate dad wear them," Peter promptly retorted. "Besides, we shouldn't be hasty. Very possibly the clock refers to something else."

"Like what?"

"The bell tower at Riverside Church is a candidate. Its carillon and bells are famous. But that won't help you on narrowing down the style. The church would be suitable for any era."

"True, but its gargoyles could mean we'd still be men in tights."

"I refuse to believe Sara would do that to us. Didn't you say you have another clue?"

Neal nodded. "I found it on Diana's desk. She's using a metal statue of a falcon as a paperweight. I've never seen it before. She would have had to be very cagey about sneaking it in since she's not coming into the office."

"She could have asked someone else to put it in place," Peter pointed out. "Any guesses about its significance?"

"It looks a little like the Maltese Falcon. That could be a confirmation of the 1940s. The movie was released in 1941." Neal studied the list of venues. "Which sites have a connection to that era?"

The ringing of Peter's phone interrupted his reply. When Neal heard Hughes's name, he stood up to leave, but Peter motioned him back into his chair. Neal couldn't hear Hughes and the few comments from Peter weren't helpful. "I understand," "That's correct," and "Thank you for calling" could refer to anything. But the fact that Peter wanted him to stay made Neal suspect Jemison was involved. He turned his head to look out Peter's window. Was the view destined to shortly be only a memory?

"Hughes spoke with Jemison," Peter said when he ended the call. "D.C. has decided to sever the Bureau's partnership with the art crimes task force."

"I didn't think my report was that bad," Neal said, feeling more bitter than he'd expected. The outcome wasn't a surprise, but it still rankled.

"It wasn't," Peter quickly assured him. "Jemison told Hughes she wanted to maintain it, but in the current climate she couldn't get her director to agree."

"Has she told Hobhouse yet?"

"No, but he should hear something by the end of the week." Peter hesitated a moment, his lips tightening. "I suspect you've already been considering options. You should know that a new job is in my future. It's not official yet, but it will probably be announced by the end of the week."

"Congratulations! I hope it's a promotion."

"It is."

"I hope you weren't holding off because of the art crimes task force."

"I wasn't, but it was a factor. One of many I might add. I enjoy my work at White Collar, but if I want to advance my career, broadening my experience is essential. I'm telling you this in confidence because I don't want you staying at White Collar simply out of loyalty to me. Jones will succeed me, and you know he'll want you to stay on."

"But art crimes won't be part of our caseload."

Peter shook his head. "No."

Neal took a breath. "You're right that I have been reviewing options. Henry and I have discussed opportunities at Win-Win. The FBI isn't interested in Interpol, but Win-Win is. What do you think the odds are that Hobhouse would agree to my continuing with them as a representative of Win-Win?"

Peter's eyes widened. He evidently hadn't considered the possibility. "Win-Win has an international reputation but isn't known for art crimes. You, on the other hand, are. With your track record, I bet Hobhouse could make a strong case."

"Henry's discussed art crimes with Win-Win's CEO. Art investigations are a natural fit with their new insurance business." Neal smiled. "And the lucrative rewards posted for recoveries make art investigations easy to sell."

"With you on their team, Win-Win will be in even stronger shape to sign new clients."

"And you'll be free to pursue your career," Neal said. "I won't be dragging you across the globe when you'd rather be home with El, Baby Burke, and Satchmo."

"You'll get to focus on art. You can partner with Sara and Henry. No more surveillance vans."

"You won't have to listen to my moans about mortgage frauds." Why wasn't Neal feeling better about it? It was the best outcome for both of them.

"Let's call John together," Peter said. "I'll be glad to throw in my two cents about what a great fit this is for his team. He'll be able to call on you as much as he wants. He's a lucky man."

#

Sara clinked wine glasses with Neal on the terrace outside the loft. "To White Collar and the FBI!"

"And to our joint future with Win-Win," Neal responded. "I'll miss my friends but not the federal bureaucracy."

Neal looked happy about his change in status, and they'd discussed for months its increasing likelihood, but Sara was shocked that it happened so quickly.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Peter had put his transfer on hold until Jemison made a decision," Neal said. "You should have been there. Peter didn't make any attempt to convince me to stay."

"He realizes what's best for you. White Collar is no longer a good fit for your skills."

He nodded absently. "I'm not sure Jones and Diana will feel the same way. The call with Hobhouse was remarkable. Anyone would have thought Peter was being employed by Win-Win to make the case. He enumerated several advantages to John. The fact that Win-Win works so closely with the Bureau is also a plus. John believes he'll have Interpol's approval by the end of the week."

"Will your work with the art crimes task force continue without a break?"

"I believe so, and I could even work at home if I need to be available to answer construction questions."

"Thank you!" Sara said. "June will be overjoyed as well." Eric had warned them that the demolition work would start tomorrow. This was their last quiet evening before what promised to be months of remodeling chaos. Eric was employing his father's company, Vasquez Construction, for the work. Sara liked that it would be a family affair.

Neal's last day with the Bureau would be on September 29. He had a few days of vacation left that he'd earmarked to use when he needed to be at Columbia. Once he started at Win-Win, he planned to only work special assignments in the fall. Between his doctorate work, the art crimes task force, the remodeling project, and the small matter of an upcoming wedding, there wasn't much time left in his schedule.

Sara was grateful she wouldn't be called on to supervise construction. Henry was relying on her to make a smooth transition for Sterling-Bosch. She was assisting in the recruitment process for additional agents while crossing her fingers no major thefts occurred before her team was familiar with the new system.

"Have you told Mozzie?" she asked.

"I texted him I had news. He said he'd touch base with me later." Neal smiled. "Mozzie shows every sign of being consumed by a new project."

"I bet you're right. I saw him briefly on my way out this morning. He was muttering to himself. It sounded like one of the Slavic languages, maybe Russian. Do you know what's grabbed his interest?"

Neal considered a moment as he turned his head toward the sunset over the Hudson River. "Not the details. He'd asked me how familiar I was with Saint Petersburg."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that," Sara said, seizing the opening. "You'd touched upon the Neva and the Hermitage when we were in Baltimore last spring. I gather you weren't there with Mozzie?" She was curious to see how much he'd reveal. They had an understanding that any undisclosed illegal activities from his past were off-limits. Both of them realized that some secrets should remain that way. In his case, the secrets were not necessarily his own.

"No, I was there with Klaus." He smiled at her. "That watercolor sketch on the birthday card I sent him? I told you it was based on a Matisse. The painting is at the Hermitage. We'd admired it together."

The work was in lush shades of lavender, mauve, and blue. Matisse had depicted Notre Dame in Paris. In Neal's version, Riverside Church rose above the park. Klaus had hidden a ring for Neal in one of the gargoyles of the church, and Neal hoped Klaus appreciated the reference. Klaus's birthday was tomorrow, and they'd both signed the card.

Neal had visited Klaus in prison over the summer. Peter had gone along. Even he viewed the master art thief more sympathetically now that they knew Klaus had also been victimized by his brother's manipulation. Neal's therapist, Jacob Nussbaum, was meeting with Klaus. The type of programming used on both him and Neal was also being used in other countries. Jacob had a grant to research it and Klaus willingly agreed to assist.

"Could I coax you into making a larger version of your watercolor?" Sara asked. "You know how much I admired it."

"I could perhaps be persuaded." His expression grew thoughtful as he took a sip of wine. "Riverside Church does have a personal significance."

She smiled. "Yes, it does. I'm told it's a very popular location for weddings."

"Isn't it time for another clue?" he asked.

Was that a diversionary tactic to keep her from asking anything else about the Hermitage? Sara decided that would be the way she'd play it. "Another clue? You mean you've already found some?"

"I believe so. A certain alarm clock comes to mind. A falcon statuette is on Diana's desk which I don't remember having seen before."

"Hmm, they do sound intriguing. And to celebrate your new status, I really should divulge something."

He arched an eyebrow. "Such as?"

"The personal significance I referred to has nothing to do with paintings."

"Is that all?" He frowned and took a sip of wine. "That's not much of a clue. Some would argue it's an anti-clue."

"You still have several days. I have every confidence you'll figure it out. In fact, this is giving me ideas on how to conduct training sessions for the new insurance agents. A game of clues will be my equivalent of your art heist workshops."

#

The next day Neal paid a visit to his future office. Peter was busy in meetings. Jones and Diana were still working undercover. With no pressing assignments on hand, Neal knew that Peter would want him to take an extended lunch hour especially since Henry had met with Sara this morning in her office. Had he found a clue?

The Winston-Winslow office was in one of the historic cast-iron buildings of SoHo. The expansion of the company's business had caused Henry to take over three of the floors, and he had his eye on the fourth. At the Bureau, Neal worked in a skyscraper surrounded by law courts, banks, and federal buildings. Win-Win was only a fifteen-minute walk north, but it was on a different planet of art galleries, trendy shops, and cafes. The environments reflected the two wildly different cultures.

Neal was proud of the success he'd had in the tightly controlled bureaucracy of the FBI, but it was with a real sense of liberation that he entered Win-Win's reception area.

As if to demonstrate the new freedom which would soon be his, Radha and Sofia were playing pool when he stepped inside. Neal stopped to chat with them. Henry hadn't said anything to them yet, so Neal didn't mention that soon they would be his co-workers. Radha Prasad was a Win-Win agent who'd moved to New York from Win-Win's headquarters in Baltimore. Sofia Winston was the daughter of the company's CEO. Henry was grooming her to assume the general management of the New York office so he'd be free to engage in his favorite activities—investigations and the acquisition of new clients. Henry had told Neal that he hoped someday Sofia would become CEO of the company, a role Henry had no interest in.

"Hey, Neal, do you have time to show us a trick shot?" Radha asked. "I finally mastered the snake shot, and I'd like something else in my repertoire to impress Sara tomorrow."

Sofia rolled her eyes. "Do you honestly think you can master it in a day? It took you months to learn the snake."

Neal was inclined to agree with Sofia who was much better at billiards than both Radha and Henry. Neal had seen Radha perform the snake and mastery wasn't the term that came to mind. But far be it from Neal to burst his soon-to-be teammate's bubble.

"Sara doesn't play pool," Neal said, sidestepping the landmine of commenting on Radha's ability. "She'll be easily impressed and undoubtedly demand training. Have you ever heard of the butterfly shot?"

"No," Sofia said, "but I like it already. What's it like?"

"You first arrange six balls into a butterfly shape. Then, with one expertly placed shot, you cause each ball to fall into a different pocket."

Radha shook his head. "I don't see how that's possible."

Neal smiled. "Care for a demonstration?" He slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The shot was an especially difficult one to make, and he was forced to make do with an unfamiliar cue stick. But after a few practice shots, he nailed it the first time. He'd take that as an omen for his new career.

When Henry joined them a few minutes later, he demanded a lesson as well.

"With Sara working here, I figure we'll be able to eventually entice you to join us," Sofia said. "Henry has told you about the meetings we conduct while playing poker, right?"

"It's like he designed them with me in mind," Neal agreed.

"But for now, you're still a government drone," Henry said sternly. "These two have business to conduct and so do we."

He led Neal into his office. Neal pulled up a side chair to sit opposite him and smiled, waiting for it.

"What?" Henry demanded.

"You're not going to razz me for being a bad influence on the team?" Neal asked, arching an eyebrow.

Henry laughed. "Don't confuse me with Peter. He might give you grief, but I know better. And just to clear the air, don't think of me as your boss. You're a free agent as far as I'm concerned. I'll be more than happy to dish out advice when you want it. But I expect I'll be coming to you about as often for help."

"After three years of being a government drone, I may need a little while to adjust." But not much. Henry had covered the walls with autographed posters of rock musicians. Among them, Local Devastation was proudly displayed behind Henry's chair. A small hand drum was on his desk. In one corner was a bed for his dog Splash. The personal touches were inspiring Neal to start collecting ideas for his new office.

Henry winced. "I knew that comment would come back to bite me. Since we're on hold till the official word comes down, let's focus on the challenge of the moment. I visited Sara in her office at Sterling-Bosch this morning."

By the half-smile on his face, Neal knew he'd hit pay dirt. "What did you find?"

"Something she'd planted for us. I'm suspicious of a call she received that made her leave her office for five minutes. She has a bulletin board covered with photos of what I assume are various stolen items recovered by Sterling-Bosch. I documented it with this handy snooper-pen Travis invented." Henry took the ballpoint pen out of his pocket to flourish it.

The snooper-pen was probably one of the primary reasons Henry was so eager to have Travis consulting for Win-Win. Neal couldn't wait to tell Travis and his husband Richard the news about his new job. Richard might no longer occupy the art studio next to Neal, but his office at Scima Gameworks was only a couple of blocks away from Win-Win. They could meet for lunch. If Neal kept a guitar at work, they could jam in one of the huddle rooms.

Henry pulled up an image on his laptop and shoved it to Neal. "Any of these items ring a bell?"

Neal zoomed in on the photos to scrutinize them while Henry tapped a syncopated rhythm on the drum. After a few minutes, Neal grumbled, "You're making me feel like I'm on a game show and the clock is ticking down."

Henry snapped his fingers. "That's it!"

"What is?"

"That alarm clock you found on June's desk. It could be a reference to Tick-Tock, the crocodile in Angela's musical. June and Sara attended a performance. I remember chatting with her about the clock Travis had made for the crocodile."

"I bet you're right!" Neal said, excited by the possibilities. "That's much more intriguing than a bell tower."

Henry broke into a laugh. "I just had a vision of Sara wearing a gown inspired by Tinker Bell and you clad as Peter Pan. Man, it's perfect. You'll be in tights after all! The rest of us can go as pirates or Lost Boys."

"Sara wouldn't!"

Henry shrugged. "She might. She has a wicked sense of humor, and Janet's already made a Tinker Bell mask for Angela's musical." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms behind his head. "Challenge solved."

"Not so fast," Neal argued. "That crocodile reference could refer to something else, like, for instance, my trip to New Orleans. The alligators were thick in the swamp when we returned the cursed doubloon. If we had a New Orleans wedding, we could all dress as pirates." He crossed his arms. "And no one would need to wear tights."

Henry sat upright. "Or Egyptians. They had crocodiles in the swamp. What if Sara is thinking about an Arkham Files story?"

Neal considered the idea. "Arkham Neal and Sara played a major role in our courtship. Sara would love alluding to the matchmaking con you and the Arkham Round Table writing group were trying to pull."

"And all the fun you had misleading us with the Clueless con in response," Henry replied, giving him a rueful wince. "The story that was set in ancient Egypt is Sands of Abydos. That falcon you found on Diana's desk could refer to the mask of Horus your character wore. You wouldn't necessarily have to dress as Egyptians. At the end of the story, Diana had the two of you muse about wandering through ancient temples in a tux and evening gown. The James Bond movie she was channeling hadn't come out yet, but everyone except the characters got the reference."

"And that would tie into the Met Museum," Neal said. "The gallery which holds the Temple of Dendur is a popular site for private events."

"Plus, the Met Museum is where Sara and Fiona spotted you making out with Raquel. Didn't you tell me something about crocodiles?"

Neal nodded. "An ancient Egyptian love poem was on display. The lover talks about his beloved being on the other shore with crocodiles lurking on the sandbanks. He ignores the danger and plunges into the water to swim to her."

"You can't get much more romantic than that."

"Normally, I'd agree with you, but would Sara want to bring up the con I was running with Raquel? Fiona was ready to harpoon me after seeing the two of us together."

Neal resumed scrutinizing the photos. Paintings, silver, sports cars, antiques, jewelry . . . "The Hope Diamond? That's the clue! It's still at the Smithsonian. I would have heard about it if it had been stolen."

Henry leaned over the photos. "Which one is it?"

"The large blue diamond pendant surrounded by smaller diamonds." He smiled. "It would be just like Sara to refer to a gemstone. You know how she loves jewelry and especially antique jewelry. The Hope Diamond is believed to have been recut from the French Blue, one of the French Crown Jewels. It was stolen during the French Revolution."

Henry rubbed his chin. "Mozzie had mentioned wanting to set an Arkham Files story in France. The French Blue is an excellent candidate to be an Elnath crystal."

"Sara knows about the Marie-Antoinette diamond earrings that I was accused of stealing. I'd told her about the ring I forged to expose the thief." His words trailed off as he pictured Sara in an extravagant wedding gown patterned on the styles of the French court.

"Did the French possess the jewel during the time of the Musketeers?"

"No, they acquired it when Louis XIV was king."

"So the venue would most likely be the Frick Collection."

"The Fragonard gallery would be appropriate." Neal chuckled. "That's where Sara was spying on Alex and me. The gallery features a cycle of paintings called The Progress of Love."

"It's tempting," Henry agreed. "But the ticking clock isn't a particularly good fit unless Sara is evoking how the French monarchy was on borrowed time." He grimaced. "Not an auspicious image for a wedding."

"You're right, and crocodiles don't figure into the French court either," Neal said thoughtfully.

"Nor does that falcon on Diana's desk," Henry pointed out. "If it weren't for the Hope Diamond, my money would be on ancient Egypt."

Neal gave a slow exhale. "We're still missing a piece of the puzzle."

"Consider it a compliment," Henry said, chuckling. "Sara respects your skill. She wouldn't have made it easy.