Chapter 23: Operation Treasure Hunt
As Peter listened to Neal and Henry plot their next pirate adventure, he was torn. The grown-up voice inside him advocated being the voice of reason. He had over ten years of service to the Bureau and was responsible for apprehending criminals while minimizing the risk to field agents.
Instead, he'd signed off for the three of them to paint large bullseyes on their chests while they ran off to Europe on a quest for plundered treasure. And he could feel the pirate blood rising in his veins. The U-boat con, aka Operation Barbarossa, was concluded. It was time for Operation Treasure Hunt.
His mom, if she only knew, wouldn't be in the least surprised. She'd remind him Robert Lewis Stevenson's Treasure Island had been one of his favorite books as a child. Once their lives returned to normal—which in the odd moment Peter liked to think would eventually happen—keeping that spirit of adventure would be his challenge. To be at their top performance potential, all the team members needed to engage their inner pirate from time to time.
But another Stevenson story weighed even more heavily on his mind at the moment. It had also been a childhood favorite. Would fusing Kidnapped with Treasure Island lead to a happy ending?
"It's really the only sane course of action," Henry said calmly. "As long as Adler seeks refuge in countries with vague extradition laws and officials susceptible to bribes, he'll never be captured. And I'm not singling out Argentina and Albania. There are regions in the U.S. where he could also escape notice for a long time."
Neal nodded in agreement. "You and I lived off-grid for years in the States. We could have continued that way if we hadn't contacted your father. The aliases we had for Urban Legend were robust enough to last for decades. And we could have slipped into others just as easily."
Peter slung his feet on top of Neal's desk, enjoying the cousins' raised eyebrows. Move over. There's another pirate at the table. "Just so we're clear, what we're signing off on is to allow one or more of us to be kidnapped."
"Sounds good to me," Neal said cheerfully. "The key players—Klaus, Rolf, Python, and Adler—are still at large. A kidnapping conviction should put the perp away for a long time to come. The odds are in our favor that Adler will strike first. That gives us an additional advantage. The longer we can keep the dream of stashed art alive, the easier it will be to trap Ydrus."
"Most likely, the Mansfelds believe that there actually was a U-boat," Henry added. "All the groundwork we prepared about it still holds water. The Degas Neal forged was certified authentic by Sterling-Bosch. Kramer must have passed on that nugget."
"Klaus is aware of Neal's skill though," Peter reminded him. "He could believe it's a forgery."
"True," Henry admitted. "But that won't change their thinking. The evidence from Huber's safe is too compelling. Klaus could easily believe Neal is holding onto the original while making multiple perfect copies of it."
"Now Rolf and Klaus want to deal themselves in," Neal added, moving his keyboard aside so he could swing his feet onto the desk in front of his monitor. "They're tracking our movements while biding their time."
"Their objective is to have you remain in New York and work for the Bureau while pursuing your degree," Henry theorized, snatching the far end of Neal's desk for his own feet. "It's the perfect front for the thefts and forgeries you'll be performing for them on the side. They have the Vermeer trigger they can play at any time, but they'd much rather see what happens to the U-boat story first. They may even jump in to protect you if they sense you're in danger."
"And that leaves the field open to Adler," Peter said. "He's kidnapped before. He'll do it again."
Henry nodded complacently. "I'm the most likely target. If Adler approaches me, I'll express my willingness to make a deal." He gazed at the ceiling for a moment. "I'm totally without scruples, always on the lookout for a new opportunity . . . Yep, that'll work. I can build on the reports Ruiz sent about my dipping into the company till to pay for my extravagant lifestyle. After seeing how my father was corrupted by Win-Win, I have become cynical and don't mind in the least screwing my own company."
"You could even build on your conflicted feelings about your father," Neal suggested. "Adler is fulfilling his father's dream. You could be doing the same. Robert took advantage of Win-Win for his own purposes. You're simply following in his footsteps."
"Finally something useful is coming out of his misdeeds?" Henry's face darkened for a brief second. "I love it. The same could work for you."
"Like father like son?" Neal's chuckle had no humor in it. "I could refer to how my father was wronged. The system betrayed him. Now it's time for payback."
Henry and Neal wore nearly identical expressions, showing the scars of wounds that hadn't fully healed. Neal never talked about James. Had he meant what he said or was it simply a con to sell to Adler? Peter needed to have that conversation with him someday. His mother and Ellen were still in WITSEC. How much resentment was buried inside him, and who was it directed at?
Henry didn't respond to Neal's remark. He may have been too absorbed by his own unhappy memories to pay it much heed. "You and I will be the perfect recruits for Adler, but we shouldn't ignore the possibility that Adler may first strike at Peter to obtain leverage."
"Possible," Neal conceded, "but unlikely. Adler has no reason to think he could convert Peter. If he really wants us to work for him, he'll pick one of us as his target. My money's on Henry."
The odds-on favorite smiled. "How easy should I make it?"
#
After a smooth overnight flight from Paris, Neal checked himself, Peter, and Henry into their rooms at the Jeu de Paume hotel. Peter was growing used to the ambiance of flying first class. For the first time in recorded history, he actually slept on the plane, and it was fortunate he had. There'd be no time for naps today. Even though it was Sunday, it was a workday.
Marcel Jauffret had offered to come to his office at National Police Headquarters to meet with them. Travis had already been working with Marcel's techs for a couple of days. Travis hadn't revealed to his French counterparts the real reason he was there, but Neal was confident that Travis already had his monitoring equipment in place by the time their plane landed.
Neal and Peter's appointment was scheduled for noon. While they met with Marcel, Henry would touch base with Win-Win's French partners, Dufour Investigations. The small detective agency operated out of an office on the Right Bank close to Les Halles. As far as their partners were concerned, the group was investigating rumors about the missing masterpieces. That they were making sitting ducks of themselves in the process had not been divulged.
Marcel had a small untidy office at police headquarters. Art books and crime manuals shared space in the bookcase with photographs from his days of playing soccer. He'd brought in a couple of metal chairs for their use and placed them opposite his desk.
The last time they'd met face to face, Marcel had been skeptical of the existence of an undiscovered art cache. No longer. Once Mozzie deciphered the coded document, Peter had called him with the good news. So far Marcel had only shared the details with his superior officer. No one wanted to risk a leak.
"I've marked all the train routes the Nazis used during the war," Marcel said, gesturing to a large map spread out on his desk. "The lines go through Nancy, Troyes, and Dijon. Several locations, particularly the bridges, were favorite Resistance targets."
"According to the document we deciphered, the art was going to the Altaussee salt mines," Peter said, pointing on the map to the small town east of Salzburg.
Marcel nodded. "That's one of the most heavily traveled lines. It runs through Munich."
"Are there any records of the Resistance hiding art in the region?" Neal asked.
"I couldn't find any," Marcel said, "but the fighters could have been killed before they were able to inform anyone. Massacres of Resistance agents were routine. Over a hundred were executed in Besançon alone. That city was a center for the Resistance and could have provided the fighters. Perhaps a cave was used to store the paintings. There are numerous caves throughout the Jura Mountains in eastern France. The Resistance could have taken advantage of a small undocumented cavity. As for the condition of the art after such a long time. . ." He executed a slow Gallic shrug.
Neal was counting on the best-case scenario. Isabelle's friend René knew the value of the paintings and would have advocated for someplace dry and weatherproof. Bergmann must have thought their location was secure or he would have moved them. And perhaps he had.
"Have there been any inquiries about the Vermeer painting?" Peter asked.
"Only one," Marcel said. "A Belgian art historian. We confirmed her identity and allowed her to view Neal's forgery. She didn't raise any questions."
Neal's cell phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket to read the text message, expecting it to be from Henry. But that was not to be.
Neal supposed he should feel relieved they'd predicted the event correctly, but it still caused his stomach to clench. The clock had just taken a gigantic leap forward.
"What is it?" Peter asked in an undertone.
"Dubois contacted me. Henry didn't arrive at their office and he's not answering his phone."
Peter nodded, his lips tightening. "It's the logical gambit, but that doesn't make it any easier to hear."
"Would someone care to explain what's going on?" Marcel demanded, sounding aggrieved. "Please don't tell me this is yet another secret."
Neal didn't fault Marcel for his frustration but left it to Peter to explain who Henry was and how they intended to smoke Adler out into the open. Although it could be Ydrus who'd kidnapped Henry, the fugitive hedge fund manager was much more likely. Henry had been wearing the watch which contained Adler's tracking device ever since he left his loft the previous evening. For someone with Adler's resources, he was an easy mark.
While Marcel vented about the idiocy of their plan, Neal attempted to contact Henry and had the expected futile results. Henry was now forty-five minutes late. By now, Adler could have hustled him onto a plane. He could be anywhere.
When Peter called Travis, he was already on his way to meet with them. Henry's cell phone was broadcasting a signal from the Tuileries Garden while his pen registered a location on the Rue de Rivoli. They couldn't both be right.
Marcel dispatched detectives to search both sites, using the coordinates Travis supplied them. They then regrouped in a conference room Marcel had appropriated as an ad hoc command center.
"Henry followed all the safety protocols we'd established," Travis reported. "He called me when he left the hotel and sent me a photo of the taxi's license information at the start of his trip."
"The cab driver may have been uninvolved," Marcel noted. "An accident could have been staged to force him to stop. The route between your hotel and the detective agency is a short one. We may find a witness."
Marcel's prediction proved accurate. The cab driver was located. He reported they'd gotten caught in a traffic jam on the Rue de Rivoli. With traffic at an impasse, Henry paid the fare and exited the cab, saying he'd walk the rest of the way on foot. He must have been seized on the street. His pen was found on the curb.
Police detectives found Henry's cell phone and watch at the base of a marble statue in the Tuileries garden. The famous statue depicted Cain in a state of remorse, his face covered by one of his hands. For a moment Neal's belief wavered. Could this be an Ydrus ploy after all? Was the symbolism of a man racked with guilt from having killed his brother a message from Adler or a reminder from Rolf of how Neal had betrayed Klaus?
Neal zoned out the flurry of activity around him. Focus. Who was it? Rolf usually accompanied acts with a message of some sort, but there had been nothing this time . . . so far. No card of a Lovecraft monster.
"You continue to think it's Adler?" Peter asked. He must have the same concerns.
"Broad daylight? Yeah, I do," Neal said. "Rolf would have included some bizarre reference to water. Henry's phone would probably have been dropped into a reflecting pool. This reminds me of how Mozzie was snatched off a street."
"Fowler made use of the mafia in New York," Peter said and turned to Marcel. "Does the Albanian mafia have much of a presence in Paris? We have reason to suspect Adler established himself in that country."
Marcel considered for a moment. "If Adler had affiliated himself with the Albanian mafia, most likely they'd provide him with Serbian contacts. We have several members of the Serbian mafia in our database. I can run a check."
Peter notified Jones. They were now on location in Albania and would watch for any traffic going in or out of the estate. The French would continue to search, but Neal had little hope they'd find anything. So far no witnesses had been found to the abduction.
They all knew what the next step would be. It was simply an issue of timing. Travis performed a system check on Neal's watch to verify it was operating correctly.
After it was finished, Neal stood up. "I think I'll make a coffee run."
Marcel looked up. "The breakroom is down the hall."
"Thanks, but I'd like to get some fresh air." And give Adler a chance to pick me up.
Peter frowned at his words but didn't try to stop him. He knew it was Neal's turn at bat.