Chapter 22: A New Look

Peter assumed he was safe. He'd scheduled a review with Hughes on the upcoming budget for the afternoon. Given the stack of details he was prepared to discuss, the meeting could easily last the rest of the day. There was simply no time for any other activities. All that talk about disguises was probably just Neal razzing him. He wouldn't dare plan anything sneaky.

Peter paused at the entrance to Hughes's office. This was Neal. Of course, he was working on something sneaky.

And on a purely intellectual level, Peter agreed that disguises might be useful. If they didn't catch Adler tonight, they'd attempt to draw him out of hiding in Europe. The fugitive had spent decades searching for a U-boat. After being fed the clues by Ruiz, his obsession must be all-consuming. Kidnapping would remain a real threat until he was behind bars. Adler could easily track their movements via Henry's watch. Neal and Henry argued that it was better to provoke him into action now than spend years wondering when he would strike again.

But Neal hadn't mentioned a word about disguises since their meeting at Henry's office. He knew Peter was a busy man with matters far more important than costumes to consider—like an afternoon of number crunching with Hughes.

But Peter had barely started on his second page of notes when his superior pulled the rug out from under him.

After a glance at his watch, Hughes shook his head regretfully. "Sorry to cut this short, but the assistant director called a meeting on me. I gather it's just as well. Caffrey alerted me that you also have an appointment. I'm surprised you didn't mention it. We could have rescheduled this discussion."

"I didn't know I had one," Peter admitted with a wince.

Hughes arched an eyebrow, his mouth giving the faintest twitch of a smile. "An end-run maneuver? Given the nature of the appointment, it was a smart move."

As Peter stood up to meet his doom, Hughes said, "Oh, one last thing. I'm sure I don't need to remind you, what with your commendable attention to thorough documentation, but I fully expect to see photos included in the file." Hughes snorted a chuckle. "I wish I'd brought my camera to capture your expression right now."

Neal was perched on the edge of his desk, waiting for him in the bullpen, an innocent smile on his face. "Ready to be transformed?"

"You could have let me know."

"Would you have agreed?"

"Definitely not."

"I rest my case."

To save commuting time, Richard, who worked in the vicinity, had offered to meet them in the apartment he shared with Travis in the Village. Richard's boss, Ian Forster, was happy to accommodate the Bureau's request. Scima Gameworks apparently still felt guilty over the role they'd unwittingly played in Neal's virtual reality ordeal in Los Angeles. Neal could have sued them, and Peter suspected Mozzie had urged him to do so, but he hadn't. Neal's take was that the favors he'd accumulated by not pressing a lawsuit were more valuable.

During the short drive, Neal was in high spirits, dreaming up improbable disguises for Peter to wear. "Confess, haven't you always wanted to dress like a clown?"

Peter played along, suspecting Neal had seized on the topic as a technique to keep himself loose for the upcoming sting. The previous evening it was charades. Now it was costumes. Well, two could play that game.

"Is this punishment for Diana's last story?" Peter challenged while keeping his eyes on traffic so Neal couldn't launch into any complaints about his driving.

"Whatever could you mean?"

"You know perfectly well the scene I'm referring to. Does your rendition of 'Blackbird' while our characters were trying to escape Sornoth's fortress ring a bell?"

"Hmm. Oh yes, I remember now. Diana did rather overplay the loopiness factor."

"I thought she showed admirable restraint."

"So you admit it! You told her about St. Louis."

"I confess to nothing, but I certainly have ample material. In addition to that performance, you've provided numerous other examples."

"What others?" Neal asked warily.

"Let's see . . . there was the time you were convinced I was a dinosaur and sang 'Up, Up and Away,' and who can forget you singing 'I Feel Fine' to El and me on the phone?"

Neal groaned. "Tell me you didn't mention those to Diana. Doesn't she already have enough material to blackmail me with?"

"It sounds to me like we're due for another pinky swear. In return for no more teasing on costumes, I'll restrain myself from sharing more examples."

Peter held out his right hand and Neal hooked fingers.

"You strike a hard bargain," Neal conceded. "Someone more devious than me might suspect a trap. Did you deliberately exaggerate your aversion to win the concession?"

If Neal wanted to see a hidden conspiracy, Peter didn't mind taking the credit. "Just reminding you who the puppetmaster is."

Neal smiled. "Touché . . . and I appreciate your willingness to go along." When he cleared his throat, Peter flicked him a quick glance. Gone was the teasing kid. He'd been replaced by a thoughtful adult. "When we go to Europe, we'll no longer be in control of the action. We'll need to be prepared to handle a multitude of options. It's reassuring to know that you'll be equipped to lead the cavalry without revealing your identity."

If Neal had phrased it that way at the beginning, Peter would have agreed without hesitation. Why was it that Neal insisted on making everything so complicated?

They were in luck and found a parking place on the same block as Travis's building.

"You'll feel this trip is worth it just to see the apartment," Neal said when he rang the buzzer at the front entrance. "You haven't been inside yet, have you?"

"The closest I've come is to drop Travis off," Peter admitted.

When they were buzzed up, they took the elevator to the fifth floor. Neal's hints left Peter curious about what the place was like. Travis owned his apartment in the co-op building. Richard had moved in about six months ago.

When the door opened, they were greeted by an apparent stranger. Peter stared at the transformation. "Travis? If this weren't your place, I wouldn't have recognized you."

"You're the first to see my disguise. Do you like it? I could hardly use my Vulcan ears for undercover work."

Travis now had a shock of hair heavily tinted with blond highlights. The hair on top was quite long and fell in front of his face. His nose had been altered and he had a short beard. It gave him a vaguely Viking appearance. It was a look he could work as a carpenter, a longshoreman, or a man about town in a tuxedo.

Richard was standing behind Travis, grinning at the reaction.

"I'm feeling better," Peter admitted. "You can turn me into another Viking, and I'll be happy."

"Oh, but we can't have two look-alikes," a familiar voice protested, and El walked into the entry with Sara.

"Just how large a conspiracy is this?" Peter asked, faking a grumble.

"Sara's my hairstylist," Richard said, "and to have a satisfied customer, I know I'll need to have Elizabeth's approval."

"I was delighted when Richard called me," El said. "We've been discussing options for the past half hour."

"I'm surrounded by connivers," Peter muttered, but secretly he welcomed their involvement. For once, El wasn't being left out of the loop.

"Did you style Travis's hair?" Neal asked Sara.

"You like it?"

"He's rocking it."

She smiled. "I'm glad to hear you say so. As I recall, you were less enthusiastic when I gave your hair highlights last year."

"That's different. Travis knew it was coming."

Sara had raised a sensitive subject. Peter remembered all too well Neal's moans and groans about her trick. Before he could let loose again, Peter cut in. "I hope I'm going to get the tour? I need to see the world you two created."

"Not just one world," Travis said with all the pride of the space nut he was. "Multiple. Each room is a different planet."

Pale washes of color evoked alien landscapes on all the walls of the apartment. The theme was also carried out on the ceilings which had been transformed into extraterrestrial skies. A few hints of the creatures Richard was so skilled in bringing to life could be seen peeking out from misty vistas and desertscapes. Furthest along was the kitchen which conjured up the windy sand dunes of the planet Vulcan.

The men were minimalist in their furniture with more worktables than chairs. Electronic gear co-existed with art and sculpture supplies. Richard had carved out a music niche for his guitar in the living room.

Richard led Peter into the kitchen for the transformation and had him sit on a barstool. After seeing all the science fiction, Peter was in a better mood. He was simply disguising himself to be an alien. Nothing wrong with him indulging in a little fantasy, too.

"Do you have any preference?" Richard asked.

"I wouldn't mind a Viking look like Travis's," Peter admitted.

"How about with dark hair?" El suggested. "But with a beard similar to the one Travis has?"

Sara was studying Peter intently, making him a little nervous. "Perhaps just a few highlights to soften the effect."

"Definitely!" El agreed.

"I feel your pain," Neal murmured.

"You complained for weeks when the highlights didn't wash out," Peter muttered back.

"But Sara will use a wig, so you won't have to worry."

"Won't the beard be hard to apply?" Peter asked as Richard draped a cloth over his shirt.

"I'm working on a new technique that simplifies the procedure."

"It only takes me five minutes to transform myself," Travis said. "I don't need Richard's help to apply the makeup."

"But it will take time to prepare the beard," Richard warned. "Plus I'll need to teach you the technique. Since you're leaving tomorrow, let's go with something simpler for now."

"I recommended something similar to Tom Selleck," El said. "He has your rugged good looks, and you've commented how you admire his mustache."

That was a little strong, but Peter restrained his growls. It could be worse. Selleck drove a Ferrari in Magnum, P.I. As long as El didn't insist on Hawaiian shirts, he wouldn't complain.

They settled on a nose piece that would be easy to apply, a wig, and a mustache. While Richard made a mold of his nose, El asked Travis about their trip to New Orleans.

"Richard and I spent the weekend mucking out. That was a new term to me."

"And me too," Sara said. "What does it mean?"

"Basically ripping out everything from a house that got wet—not just the furniture and appliances but flooring, carpets, drywall, and insulation. That's to prevent mold from forming. Luckily Richard's parents weren't flooded but many of their friends were. They live in the Garden District, one of the oldest neighborhoods in New Orleans. Lots of small shotgun houses with rooms arranged one behind the other." Travis shook his head. "The devastation is enormous. It will take years to rebuild."

"We were glad to do what we could," Richard said, "and it shows something good can come out of the worst tragedy. Dad came to see us while we were mucking out the house of one of his friends." He gave a rueful smile. "It's a start."

Travis looked at him with sympathy. "It's the first time his dad's spoken to him since Richard came out. Martin was gracious in his appreciation for what we were doing."

"People change," Peter commented. "Don't give up on Martin. Look at me. I never thought I'd wear another disguise. That proves there's hope for any transformation."

#

The sting on Friday night was for the benefit of Adler and his gang. In many respects, it was a carbon copy of the previous night when they arrested several Ydrus operatives. This time Diana leaked word to Ruiz about the upcoming op. She also divulged that she'd heard the warehouse was located in Brooklyn. They were confident that Adler would take advantage of Henry's bugged watch to pinpoint the location.

It was another waiting game to see who would fall into their net, and although Adler failed to appear, snaring Garrett Fowler was enough of a prize to have Neal smiling all night. It had been a year since Fowler used his position at the Office of Public Responsibility to frame him for a crime. Watching Fowler being led off in handcuffs went a long way to erase the lingering bitterness.

Fowler had brought along several thugs who would also enjoy the hospitality of the New York Department of Correction. Ruiz had been arrested at home as soon as Fowler was snagged.

Neal returned to the office the following morning mainly to hear about the results of the interrogation. They'd leave for Paris that evening. The next time Neal would be back at work was up in the air.

He was ticking off his emails when Henry entered the bullpen. Plopping into a chair, he asked, "What's the latest?"

It was a good feeling to no longer have to confer in secret. Kramer was on ice. The bullpen was once more friendly territory. Still not optimal. No pool table like Henry had. Neal took it as a reminder that his work wasn't done.

"When I arrived, Tricia and Peter were already questioning Fowler and Ruiz."

"Any reports yet on what if anything they coughed up?"

"Not so far. Tricia let Fowler stew in the Municipal Correctional Center overnight before starting in on him. You got your bags packed?"

"I'm ready."

"What did you tell Eric?"

"That I'm going away on business, and don't give me that look. I'm being completely honest."

"A business trip where we may be kidnapped? What if Adler decides to use Eric as an additional insurance policy?"

"The chances are minimal of that happening. There's a slight chance Adler would go after Mom. She's aware of the risk and is taking extra precautions. I've told Eric to be careful as well. He's got a GPS watch like Angela's wearing. You're lucky that you're not in a relationship with anyone."

Neal nodded. Sara wasn't aware of the strategy. She only knew they were leaving for Europe. He'd debated telling her but there didn't seem to be any point. Why give her something to worry about when there was nothing she could do?

"Adler and Kate are probably still in Albania," Henry said. "Man, I'd love to be a fly on the wall. Does he believe the U-boat is real?"

"I bet he does. We were too smart to get trapped and hid the art before the raid. I see you're still wearing the watch Adler bugged."

Henry smiled. "Adler has to be drawn out of hiding if we're to have any hope of capturing him."

"Nothing stupid, right?"

"You know who you sound like. Did Peter tell you that too?"

"He didn't need to. He knows who the smart one is." Neal nodded toward the entrance of the bullpen. Peter was walking through the doors.

Their crew leader rolled a chair over to sit beside them. "Should I be worried about what you two are scheming about?"

"Worried?" Henry broke into a confident smile. "Of course not."

Peter narrowed his eyes but didn't comment further. They'd sworn to keep everyone fully informed of their plans. Peter was demonstrating his trust. "We've finished the interrogations for now. We made the most progress with the men Fowler hired to help. One of them admitted under questioning that he helped Fowler kidnap Mozzie last April. We're using the abduction as leverage. Tricia and I took pleasure in informing Fowler that Mozzie can identify him as the ringleader. Now we have corroboration."

Neal smiled. "Fowler doesn't know Mozzie would never agree to be on the witness stand."

"Tricia will continue the work this afternoon," Peter said. "All the original charges against Fowler— conspiracy to commit fraud and falsifying evidence—still stand. In the first case, Fowler aided a man charged with murder. Tramonte has already made a plea bargain, and confessed to an earlier homicide burglary. Ruiz can be charged as an accessory as well. So far no one has incriminated Adler, but if we can get our hands on him, Tricia believes the others will eventually fold."

"How has Ruiz defended his actions?" Neal asked.

"It's as we suspected. Fowler mentored Ruiz when he started at the Bureau. The two maintained a close friendship. Ruiz insists that you were the cause of Fowler's downfall. He seems unaware of the extent of the charges against Fowler when he fled. Since Ruiz only kept him informed of your movements, he didn't believe he was doing anything incriminating. He claims he knew nothing about Mozzie's kidnapping or the extent of Fowler's involvement with the Italian thief."

It wasn't a great feeling. Adler roped Fowler into framing Neal for the theft of the earrings. If Neal hadn't joined the FBI, Fowler might never have been approached. Ruiz would still have his job. And Kramer? He would likely never have agreed to work first with Bryan then with Ydrus.

"Don't let this mess with your head," Henry urged quietly. "You're not responsible for their actions."

"Henry's right," Peter agreed. "With their attitudes, they would have taken advantage of the system in some other way if you hadn't been here."

Henry often seemed to sense what he was thinking. That Peter could too was a little disconcerting but also reassuring. "Thanks. I'm chalking this one up to one long con. I've been operating undercover to expose the corruption in the Bureau."

"Exactly," Henry said, approval in his eyes. "Or call it a variant of three-dimensional chess where we're playing with two opponents—Ydrus and Adler. For Adler, we've knocked out his bishop and knight—Fowler and Ruiz. We still have the king and queen to capture."

"I heard from Diana at the airport," Neal said. "She and Jones are on their way to Albania. Travis and Mozzie have already left. By the time we fly over the Atlantic, Mozzie may be in Oberammergau." He cocked an eyebrow at them and grinned. "You ready to find some Nazi plunder?"