Chapter 20: Whack-a-Mole

Neal's loft. September 8, 2005. Thursday morning.

"Why didn't you put her on speaker?" Mozzie moaned.

"Chantal's never met you," Neal said. "I didn't want to give her any reason to feel uneasy."

The previous day Neal had received a text message from Chantal that she'd spoken with Klaus's mother Luisa. Much as he would have loved to call her immediately, he was attending the first session of his seminar on Italian Baroque art, and Sherkov had barely warmed up. The news from Paris would have to wait. By the time the class ended, Chantal was in the middle of cooking for the evening crowd. She suggested he call her the next day. Early morning for him translated into post-lunch in Paris and she'd have time to talk.

Once Mozzie heard about the call, he insisted on being present. Afterward, they could share a cab for the ride to the Win-Win office to meet Peter and Henry.

Under any circumstances, coaxing Mozzie into the Federal Building was a Herculean chore. With Kramer likely to drop in, it was a non-starter. Henry's office was close to work and provided a convenient safe house for plotting.

"Your responses were disappointingly cryptic," Mozzie chided. "Why did you scribble the German word for violin on your notepad?"

"Because Geigner is the name of the family who lives in the house."

"They could be related to Bergmann! Isabelle said his wife was a violinist. She could have changed her name."

"The thought occurred to me, as well. Bergmann's wife reportedly died during the bombing of Munich. What if she instead assumed a new identity? Klaus's mother Luisa said she'd met the elder Mrs. Geigner. She passed away in the 1990s. Her son, Bernhard, now owns the chalet and uses it as a vacation house. He was very devoted to his mother. Perhaps he kept her belongings."

"Could Luisa describe the location?"

"It's along a mountain road several miles away from Oberammergau. The road is called Feuchtenrainweg. Luisa described the chalet. It's not far beyond a monastery. We shouldn't have any difficulty in locating it."

#

When Peter arrived at the Win-Win office, Neal, Radha, and Sofia were gathered around the pool table that dominated the central open space behind the reception area. It was a feature Neal never failed to point out. He refused to give up on his campaign to have one installed in the FBI bullpen.

"Neal's been demonstrating a trick," Sofia explained. "It's called the snake shot."

"Required training for the con," Neal said as he lined up the balls into a long winding curve. "When the first ball is struck with precisely the right amount of force and angle, it sets off a chain reaction, leading to the final ball dropping into a corner pocket."

"Where's Mozzie?" Peter asked, knowing better than to make a fool of himself by attempting to duplicate Neal's expertise.

"With Henry," Radha said. "Sofia and I'll work on the trick while you meet. By the time you come out, I bet we'll have mastered it."

By the way Sofia smiled, Peter suspected she'd already figured it out. Neal had commented she was a natural at billiards, leaving the others, including the chagrined Henry, in the dust.

"The others are in the Zen huddle room," Neal said, placing the final ball into position. "That's become the headquarters for Operation Barbarossa. It's kept locked when no one's around."

Peter shrugged. "Locks can be tampered with."

"Sure, but this is a Mozzie custom job, complete with a booby trap linked to a surveillance camera designed to catch any unauthorized use."

"Is Mozzie acting as a consultant to Win-Win now?"

Neal smiled. "He's negotiated a contract."

Peter stopped Neal before they entered the room to ask, "No problems last night?"

"None. I'm beginning to think the painting incident was just a random fluke."

"Not with Sam having issues too."

"I'm keeping to my side of the agreement," Neal said with a hint of defensiveness. "You don't need to bring it up."

Neal wasn't normally that touchy, an indication that he was more bothered by the "random fluke" than he wanted to let on. "You're right," Peter said, downplaying the incident. "I'm still getting used to this new openness."

His face relaxed. "So am I."

When they entered the room, Peter saw that Henry had made good on his suggestion. A magnetic world map now hung on one wall. Small magnetic balls served as darts.

"Care to try your luck?" Mozzie asked Peter. "The first one to hit the correct location for a capital city wins a point."

"What's the score?" Peter asked.

"Ten to three," Mozzie said with a slight shrug. "I've been taking it easy on him."

"Who knew there were so many obscure capitals," Henry grumbled.

"How are you at finding Tirana?" Neal prompted.

Henry spun around and nailed the shot on the first throw.

"Not bad, grasshopper." Mozzie sat down and appropriated one of the Indian hand drums on the table to tap a rhythmic beat. "Now that the Suit's here, let the plotting begin."

While Neal described what Chantal had learned, Henry brought up the map of Germany on his laptop and zoomed in on the Bavarian Alps.

"In the chaos after the war, it wouldn't have been difficult for Bergmann's wife to change her name," Neal said. "Since she was a violinist, Geigner is a plausible alias. The chalet may have been purchased during the war. Bergmann could have arranged the alias himself. We haven't found any directions hidden in the painting. Perhaps her husband hid them somewhere in the chalet."

Henry had placed a copy of Bergmann's letter to his wife on the table. He'd found the letter in Adler's office in Argentina. Peter picked it up to refresh his memory. The sheet of paper had survived only in fragments. Much of it was illegible. Experts had been able to pick out the words for a shipment of art. Violin and Candlestick was mentioned by name. At the end of the letter, Bergmann said that the key to recovering the art was in the violin. "Bergmann's wife was a violinist. Could we be on the wrong track?" Peter asked, musing aloud. "The Braque painting might not be the key he referred to."

"Possibly Bergmann was simply telling his wife it wasn't a copy but the original art," Neal speculated. "He may not have initially told her, fearing that she couldn't keep the secret, or because he wanted to conceal the crime."

Henry reached for a drum. "Don't forget about that second painting—the Matisse. It also depicts a violin. It's not named in the letter fragments we recovered, but Bergmann could have written about it. Isabelle said that he mentioned both paintings as being ones Nina would love to see. We assume he gave her the Braque. He could have given her the Matisse as well. He may have hidden directions in the Matisse painting instead of the Braque."

Mozzie pursed his lips and tapped a complex rhythm on the drum. "Gentlemen, consider this. Nina Bergmann was an innocent, unaware of the culpability of her husband and distraught from the horrors of war." He paused to hold a hand to his forehead and transformed his face into the picture of grief.

Neal's mouth twitched into a small smile. He passed Mozzie his handkerchief.

The overwrought Mozzie used it to dab his eyes. "Would Nina be able to use reagents to read a hidden code?" He tapped violently on his drum. "Of course not! Her beloved Anton would have made it much simpler. At the time he wrote the letter to her, he was hiding out in the Argentine rainforest. If he hadn't been racked with malaria, he would have described an easy way to find the directions. Perhaps the instructions were in the letter, but were destroyed by ravenous insects who were merely seeking sustenance to survive."

"Please don't tell me we need to go to Argentina to interview ants!" Peter pleaded.

Mozzie hesitated then shook his head. "Perhaps later, but we do need to search that chalet!"

"Legally," Peter cautioned, giving him the no-crap look which was so effective against Neal. With Mozzie though? He'd probably simply skate around it. "And before that, we'll need background information on the present owner of the chalet. I'll work with Hobhouse on the arrangements." As Neal started to speak, he added, "Don't worry. We'll keep it confidential. In any case, we can't proceed until next week at the earliest. We have back-to-back stings, starting with tonight's op."

Peter seized Mozzie's drum and thumped sharply on it to remind them who the leader of the crew was and what they needed to focus on. "Sara told Kramer that you're preparing to move the loot out of the warehouse tonight. He'll be able to use the bug she placed in your phone to discover the location. To bolster the case, Hughes advised Kramer in private that Adler has been spotted in New York. He's been tailed ever since he entered the States and was overheard making plans with Kate to transport the art to a safer location."

Neal sighed. "I wish that weren't a con, and we actually were tailing Adler."

"We may get lucky and nab him tomorrow," Henry said, "but Ydrus is on the menu for tonight. The three of us are staging our arrivals at the warehouse. We'll all be in position by seven o'clock."

Peter noticed he was wearing the watch that Adler had bugged. "You're leaving that watch at home, I trust."

Henry nodded. "I'll only wear the one monitored by Travis's team."

"I'll have mine on as well," Neal assured him. "When is the team led by Hughes scheduled to arrive?"

"Nine o'clock. Kramer wants to be present at the takedown. Sara's already mentioned that she believes your warehouse to be somewhere in Brooklyn. We expect that the Ydrus operatives are on standby status, and we'll be ready for them. Our forces will be in place beginning at six o'clock. Immediately after the Ydrus contingent arrives, Kramer will be taken into custody."

"Any sightings of Huber, Rolf, or Klaus?" Henry asked.

"Not so far," Peter said. "Joanna Abbot left Boston, bound for Montreal yesterday. Her connection may be more tenuous than we'd hoped. Wouldn't she stay around if she knew anything about the U-boat rumors?"

"Even if the Mansfelds are in New York, they may not risk coming to the warehouse," Henry said. "We weren't expecting we'd be able to make a clean sweep at the first pass."

"After tonight we will have removed their eyes and ears," Mozzie predicted. "Kramer's arrest in itself will be cause for celebration."

Neal picked up on his optimistic take. "When we turn over the cards, we may find a luckier hand than we suspected."

"And follow it up with a repeat performance for Adler's benefit the next day," Henry added.

"Since my services aren't required, I'm flying to Europe tomorrow," Mozzie said casually. "I hear the Bavarian Alps are lovely in August."

Peter knew it was coming. He supposed he should be grateful that Mozzie was upfront about it, but that wouldn't keep him from smashing it down. "I know what you're thinking and it's premature. I won't even accuse you of planning to break in. You need to be at the warehouse as well. How believable would it be that Neal and Henry are moving the art without you?" It only took a few seconds for Mozzie to grudgingly concede the truth to his words.

"We also have to scout Adler's site in Albania," Henry said. "If Adler's not captured, it will be our next target. Pops contacted his Greek friend, Yannis Pavrou. He heads a small agency in Athens and is willing to help."

"I asked Hobhouse about the extradition situation in Albania," Peter said. "It's as I feared. We'll have to be careful how we approach the authorities. If we have hard evidence, we'll have much better odds of success."

"Perhaps a clandestine surveillance to lay the groundwork . . . " Henry suggested, tapping an irregular beat.

Peter exchanged wary glances with Neal and decided to make a preemptive strike. "There's to be no repetition of Argentina."

Henry winced. "This will be purely for monitoring purposes. Yannis can spearhead the op. Sofia and Radha could use additional field experience. After we've had a chance to assess the success of Operation Barbarossa, we can decide on our next move."

Meanwhile, their man of the shadows had been lightly grazing his fingers over the drum. "Mozzie, what are you hatching?" Peter asked, trying not to make his tone sound too suspicious. He was beginning to get a headache from the competing drumbeats. Would Mozzie's scheme cause an instantaneous migraine?

"Relax, Suit. Simple logistics considerations. The cons will be concluded by Saturday. You and your fellow suits will be interrogating the sharks we've caught in our net. Surely you can't object to my casing out the chalet then."

"We should make contingency plans as well," Neal declared. "I have limited time to operate—and don't give me that look, Henry—I'm talking about my classes. Columbia doesn't give me any breaks because of my work at the FBI. Doctoral candidates are supposed to be full-time."

"Exactly," Henry said smoothly. "You need to focus on your classes. We can handle the chalet. We'll keep you fully—"

"Forget it!" Neal said, glaring at him. "You need me in Oberammergau. I stole the painting. I'm the only one who knows where it was located in the chalet."

"I'd already decided we'll all go," Peter said, snuffing out their argument.

Neal broke into a relieved smile. "When will we leave?"

"Saturday evening." Neal's limited schedule wasn't simply because of classes. Once the stings were concluded, the size of the window they had to operate in before Ydrus lost patience and pulled the trigger was unknown. Peter was willing to schedule a few days to check on the chalet in Oberammergau, but if it didn't pan out, they'd have to leave it to the Europeans to continue the search for the missing art.

"But we won't be alone," Peter added. "There's plenty of money to pay for Diana, Jones, and Travis as well. You want to send Sofia and Radha to Albania? Fine. But Jones and Diana will be with them. They can leave as soon as the sting on Friday is concluded. As for Travis, Marcel has been asking for technical assistance. He's about to get it."

Peter didn't need to remind them that until Adler, Klaus, and Rolf were captured, they were all high-risk targets. At the conclusion of the stings, Kramer and Ruiz would be seized. Their adversaries would have lost their informants. They wouldn't know if the art existed or not. Desperation could lead to extreme measures.

"After Friday's repeat performance, the U-boat con will be over. We'll need to assume different roles," Henry warned, echoing Peter's thoughts.

"We should prepare accordingly," Neal added, nodding in agreement. "Brace yourself, Peter. Disguises may be necessary."

"Not happening," Peter said, squelching that thought before it took root.

Mozzie removed his glasses and used them as a pointer. "Every successful con artist needs to be a chameleon on occasion. My glasses are one of my recognizable features. Switching them to wire-rims makes a more drastic change than you might suspect. Now imagine if I added a beard. No one would recognize me."

"I still have the Owen Wilson disguise Richard made for me," Neal said. "Henry, do you have anything?"

"When I was on the run last summer, I had one that will fool anyone. I look the spitting image of a young Johnny Depp."

Neal grinned. "This I have to see!"

"I got his mustache and that half-ass goatee mastered. Slap on a wig with the hair flopped across my face, and you'll swear he and I are related." Henry turned to Mozzie. "No need to ask you. You must have so many disguises, your only problem will be figuring out which one to take."

"I'll probably take several," Mozzie admitted happily.

"Go ahead and play your games if you want," Peter said, "but leave me out of them."

Neal frowned at him. "Aren't you the one who likes to prepare for any eventuality?"

"We're leaving on Saturday. We have back-to-back stings. Even if I agreed, there's no opportunity."

Neal crossed his arms. "We'll make the time."

#

Perhaps as a way to distract him from any thoughts of disguises, Peter advised Neal to wait till after lunch to report to work. His ploy wouldn't work, but Neal was willing to be the accommodating team player. After killing time playing pool, he hit some of the art galleries in SoHo before finally waltzing in at one o'clock.

Hughes and Kramer had met that morning. By now Kramer would have received the authenticity report from the Sterling-Bosch appraiser. While Neal waited for the elevator, he texted Peter he was on his way. Peter texted back that Kramer and Hughes were in the upstairs conference room and Hughes had been asking for him.

When Neal entered the bullpen, he found Peter standing by his desk.

"Have you met with them?" he asked, flipping his fedora onto the bust of Socrates displayed on his desk.

"Not yet." Peter glanced up at the glass wall of the conference room. "Hughes texted that Kramer may give me a last chance to redeem myself. You ready for a round of whack-a-mole?"

"With our amended playbook? Bring it on."

When they entered the room, Neal saw his painting displayed on the polished wood surface of the table. "A Degas!" He rushed forward to view it. "Where'd this come from?"

Kramer chuckled tolerantly. "I thought that would impress our boy wonder. We confiscated it from a fence."

"Caffrey, stop drooling over it," ordered Hughes peremptorily. "What can you tell us about it?"

Neal assumed his patented art critic pose. "The title is Harlequin and Columbine. It's a work by Edgar Degas. Pastel and paper on board. Created in the 1880s if I'm not mistaken. By then he'd achieved mastery in the medium—one of the most difficult in the repertoire. His technical innovations have never been surpassed, and many say they can't be duplicated." Neal bent over to study the work more closely. "Did the fence divulge how he'd obtained it?"

Kramer ignored his question. "Do you know anything about the painting's provenance?"

Neal exhaled and paused as if to consider. "I believe it was documented as one of the paintings plundered by the Nazis. I haven't heard anything about it being found."

"You know your history well," Kramer acknowledged. "It's been missing since the Second World War." He turned to Peter. "Have you heard any recent reports of Nazi-looted art being recovered? Since you're on the Interpol art crimes task force, you should be much better informed than us out-of-touch provincials."

Peter took his time before replying. Pursing his lips, he slowly shook his head. Neal felt a glow of pride. Peter the con artist was improving at a spectacular rate. On Labor Day, they'd practiced Peter's delivery. Neal made a mental note to call El. She'd also been sharing acting tips with him.

"I haven't heard any recent reports," Peter said, "but that's not surprising since a fence was selling it. If it's genuine, the discovery was kept a secret."

Kramer nodded as if he concurred. "The painting's already been authenticated."

Neal didn't let a hint of the smile he was feeling cross his face. A true shame that the brag wall for his diplomas couldn't hold the authentication certificates of his forgeries.

"What do you make of this?" Kramer asked, keeping his voice neutral. He tossed a tabloid onto the table. The lead story was one of Mozzie's planted news accounts— a lurid tale of a fisherman who'd spotted a ghost submarine off the North Carolina coastline. The accompanying photo was a murky view of a U-boat on the surface of the ocean.

Peter snorted his derision of the notion. "I hope this isn't what you're using for your news source. What connection could a U-boat have with Degas?"

Hughes's face had hardened into granite with zero reaction coming out of him. Kramer treated the account as a joke while slanting a glance at Neal every few seconds. Neal added a hint of watchfulness to his expression—a slight narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of his lips to make the smile seem superficial.

Neal was giving Kramer what he wanted—confirmation of Sara's account. Tonight, once Neal's bugged cell phone indicated the location, Kramer would alert Ydrus. They'd plan to move into the warehouse, overpower Henry, Neal, and whoever else was there. Ydrus would confiscate the art while likely offering to give Neal and Henry a share in the proceeds and keep them safe from exposure. By the time the Bureau agents led by Hughes and Kramer swarmed in, the warehouse would be bare. Or so Ydrus hoped.

So far, Kramer was acting exactly as they'd predicted, and Peter played the innocent dupe to the hilt. Kramer expected that Neal would panic at the thought of the Bureau having confiscated the Degas. He probably thought that Neal would welcome the Ydrus crew as saviors.

Later tonight it would be Kramer's turn to panic.

I added a nod to the canon episode "Countdown" when Kramer requests Neal inspect a forgery he'd made of a Degas. In my version, Peter and Hughes are on Neal's side.