Chapter 30: Dragons

"Those dragons you painted . . . you weren't thinking of the first one being a cunning jewel thief and the other the FBI agent hot on his tail, literally?" Sara asked.

"That's one interpretation," Neal said airily. "The Chinese associate them with good luck. Mine were ducking in and out of clouds. It was an elusive game of catch-me-if-you-can. The owner was in a hurry to complete the project. The grand opening was scheduled to take place a week later. I knew I'd have to work my butt off to get it done in time. Billy offered to let me stay in a guest room over the Emporium and I spent the next several days painting. I didn't have time to regret the Montreal job."

"I've never eaten at the Hunan Pavilion," she said. "We need to go there next time. And that will be my treat. Is there any reason why you chose to sing about giraffes?"

He shrugged. "I like giraffes. Amy's big eyes reminded me of them. I'd seen the tigers on her pajamas and figured it would take a couple of verses before she'd come out."

Sara smiled. "I like giraffes too. That's something else we have in common. They were my sister's favorite animal. And the green tutu?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "I could hardly stick a giraffe in a pear tree."

"What was I thinking!"

"I asked Maggie to rewrap my wrist daily so the kids would have a fresh canvas. Amy always drew giraffes. Each time the tutu was a different color—red, blue, purple. She loved purple." Neal stopped and took a sip of wine to dissolve the lump that was forming. Purple was the last color she'd used. She went home the next day. "I tried not to think about the Bureau. I painted, visited the hospital during the lunch hour. Evenings I ran in Riverside Park." He stopped for a moment as he thought back. "I used to pass a magnificent mansion made of ornately carved white marble with a copper and green tile roof. I fantasized about what it would be like to live there. I never thought I'd be able to."

"June's place?"

He nodded. "That was before I knew who she was." He took a breath. "With each day that passed, working at the Bureau seemed more remote, a daydream just like that mansion." He winced ruefully. "You should know I also thought about potential heists. If it didn't work out with the Bureau, I'd continue on the same path I'd been on."

She didn't challenge him with other options, but simply asked, "Did you wish you'd gone on the job with Mozzie?"

He shook his head. "No. I eventually spoke with Henry but didn't go into the details of what had happened at the Bureau. Mainly I thought about what it would be like to work for Peter and if I'd misjudged him."

"We were both searching for someone to hitch our star to, a role model. I was blind to Bryan's faults and refused to listen to the doubts that crept in even at the beginning. Your instincts about Peter were right."

He shrugged. "I wish I'd recognized that. I understood that if I bailed on him, I wouldn't get another chance, but my old life still called to me. Was a decidedly unknown future worth the sacrifice?

"You were about to radically change your life. Stepping back to reassess is a reasonable move. What convinced you to give the Bureau a chance?"

"Not a what but a who—Peter." Neal raised his hand to gesture to the waiter. "You'll need dessert for the details."

He'd spent the past half hour describing to Sara what took place during the week before he reported for work at the FBI. He hadn't disclosed everything. Some secrets were not his to share. Billy and Jacques's former criminal lives were off the table.

"You said Amy returned home that Friday," Sara said while the waiter placed the chocolate soufflés they'd ordered for dessert in front of them. "Did you ever see her again?"

Neal shook his head. "I continued to volunteer at the hospital on weekends. One of the nurses on the cancer floor told me Amy died about a month after she returned home."

"I'm sorry." Sara's eyes grew bright as she reached over to clasp his hand. "That must have been devastating to hear."

He nodded, grateful for her understanding. "I spent the week before I was due to start at the Bureau working on the mural. Evenings I'd run in Riverside Park. I didn't hear anything from Mozzie. In retrospect, I think he was leaving me alone to let me think things through."

"I bet you're right. I'd wondered if he had anything to do with Billy suggesting the job."

Neal smiled. "That's my suspicion. Mozzie knows that when I'm thrown into a tailspin, painting often restores my equilibrium. But this time it didn't have that effect."

"In St. Louis, you were sick, on meds . . . You could have thought you weren't in any shape to properly assess Peter or his offer."

He chuckled. "Never make a decision when you're impaired? Had it come back to bite me now? I'd enjoyed the case we worked on together, but that wasn't a real FBI case. The taste I had of what it would be like in the Bureau was sticking in my throat. The agents mistrusted me. Peter, the man I assumed I'd be working with, turned out to be some remote fed I didn't know. He'd conned me at the airport, arrested me. He made a good case that he didn't know anything about the injury, but I'd been fooled before. Klaus told me he hadn't killed a guard at the Museum. He'd lied to me. Was Peter another Klaus?"

Sara set down her fork. "I can understand why you felt that way, but I also sympathize with Peter. He might have been experiencing similar doubts. What had he agreed to? Last summer, I worried if what I saw in you was genuine or just an act, and at the time we'd been volunteering at the same shelter for months. Peter had known you for only about a week."

He shrugged acknowledgment. "I couldn't figure myself out either. I'd never worked in a nine-to-five job. Did I want to take orders, work on assignments that didn't interest me? And I hadn't even experienced the thrill of the file vault yet. How would I react to the loss of my freedom? Those all loomed as potential landmines."

#

He'd settled into a good routine at the Emporium. He'd have an early breakfast with Maggie and Billy before heading off to paint. Billy knew about the contract with the Bureau but didn't bring it up. Instead, most of the conversations revolved around his beloved orchids. He seemed to especially enjoy describing the horrors of transplant shock in excruciating detail. Neal wasn't blind to the obvious analogy. Billy believed transplanting was necessary for the growth process, but Neal wasn't convinced he'd found the proper pot for himself.

He'd created a circuit to run at Riverside Park. The trail took him close to the Hudson River and up to Riverside Church. During the front loop, he sometimes paused to admire the white mansion on the corner of 107th Street. With the salary he'd make, he'd be lucky to afford a studio in the Bowery where Mozzie had a safe house. Normally, Mozzie didn't let him stay long in any of his safe houses. He might make an exception for the Bowery if Neal offered to take care of his pet rat Percy.

Living in the Bowery, working at an office where he was considered the enemy . . . was that the life he wanted to lead? By Friday he still hadn't decided. Mozzie was returning Saturday night. Neal knew he couldn't delay much longer.

Friday morning he was at work on his dragons when Peter called his cell phone.

"Checking up on me?" Neal asked half-jokingly.

"Should I be?"

Neal enjoyed the mocking tone in Peter's reply. He was a little surprised at how good it felt to hear the agent's voice. Was this what he'd been waiting for? A chance to talk with him before making a decision?

"Did I catch you at a bad time?" Peter asked.

Neal longed to tease him that he was in the midst of a jewel heist and to call back later, but Peter would probably believe him. He clamped down on his tongue and restricted himself to "You can call off your agents. Nothing illegal."

Peter was quiet for a moment. Neal knew his words had stung. "There aren't any agents tracking you, but I can understand why you said that. After the events of Monday, we need to clear the air. You mind a visitor?"

Neal gave him the directions to the restaurant and explained what he was doing. He was glad it was an activity he felt proud of. And what kind of signal was it that it mattered how Peter would view it?

The restaurant was still a construction site. Neal's area was finished but carpenters were installing carved wood lattice dividers in the back. He tuned out the noise of hammers around him to focus on his dragons. The blue one was in the lead, the prized jewel in its claw. In hot pursuit was the larger red dragon. Its jaw was gaped open in anticipation of snatching away the pearl.

"Very impressive."

When he heard Peter's voice behind him, Neal took a second to plaster an easy smile on his face before turning around. He noted Peter glance at his palette which was lying on top of a stool. Normally he would have been holding it in his left hand.

"How's the wrist?"

"Better, thanks. I'd remove the wrap but I like the design."

Peter seized on the low-hanging fruit Neal provided him. His face expressed a wariness that Neal was concealing in his own expression. Neal held out his wrist for him to admire the drawing. Amy had given the giraffe a purple ensemble for the day.

"Did you draw that?"

"During my primitive period? No, this was a gift from a special friend."

Peter approached closer to inspect the design. "Am I supposed to know what it is?"

Neal shrugged. "It's pretty clear to me it's a giraffe in a purple tutu."

"I sense a story behind that." Peter tilted his head and looked at him hopefully.

Neal smiled but he wasn't inclined to share. He could feel his walls snapping up. Which fed was standing in front of him—the man he thought he knew or someone else?

Peter didn't press but stepped back to view Neal's painting. When Neal explained the work to him, Peter drew the natural conclusion. "I bet you're the blue dragon who's stolen the pearl. Is that me chasing you?"

"Your assumptions are incorrect. Leaping to conclusions can be dangerous." Okay, just a little bitterness could be excused.

Peter took a breath. "Look, it's too noisy to talk in here. Can you take a break for a few minutes?"

Neal glanced at his palette. He was using oils. The pigments would easily last. And he wanted that conversation. "There's a coffee shop on the corner which makes a decent brew."

A few minutes later they were seated in the shop with steaming cups of Sumatra roast. Neal was in the mood for something dark. He let Peter take the lead.

"I recognize Monday was a little harsh."

"Ya think? Arresting me at the airport? Giving me the thrill of meeting my new co-workers while manacled? You denied me lunch. Even in prison, inmates have meals, or so I'm told. I have no personal knowledge."

Peter winced. "You're angry. I get it. But you pushed a couple of my buttons at the airport in St. Louis. Taking advantage of the system to bump me to first class? Traveling under a false identity?"

Neal flared up despite his initial decision to play it cool. "You put me in that position." He stopped and took a breath, adding in a lower voice. "I get it. You took advantage of the opportunity to make me face reality. You view me as a criminal, and you wanted to drill that into your team as well."

"That wasn't my intention, and you know it." His voice was a low growl, a warning Neal breezed through. This would be a test. Peter had challenged him on Monday. It was time to reciprocate.

"How would I know? I thought you were the man who preached teamwork. Is that the way you treat a team member? And before you say I wasn't on board yet, let me remind you of your words when you came to see me after the arrest. You told me that I didn't belong in the FBI after what I pulled. Did you mean it?"

Peter's jaw hardened but he took a swig of coffee before replying, forcing Neal to take a breath as well. "I was making a point, but the words didn't come out right. I already knew trust would be a big issue for both of us, and my actions made the situation worse. I'm sorry."

That was unexpected. When had anyone ever apologized to him? Offhand, he couldn't remember a single occurrence.

"I intend to address it with the team on Monday, but you deserve a personal explanation. You're right. That was a lousy way for the team to meet you. But what I regret most is that you're more likely to view us as the enemy. All I can say is that I'll work to repair the damage. I'm a firm believer in team members being fully apprised of what they're walking into. I violated that rule with you."

Neal appreciated that Peter didn't downplay the recurrence of future tensions. They were inevitable. Would he be able to change the opinion of hostile agents? He prided himself on his con skills. This would be an excellent test. Should he thank Peter instead of giving him grief?

Peter leaned forward, deliberately getting in his face. "I'm sure this won't the last time I'll make you angry, and you'll no doubt pull more stunts that will have me boiling over. But don't let the events on Monday make you regret your decision."

Did he realize that was precisely what Neal was debating? Had his wife talked to him about it? Neal had been impressed by how well Elizabeth had read him on the phone. This experience showed that Peter was more volatile than he'd expected, but he was also open to admitting he'd made mistakes. Klaus never had. Keller never had.

"You have the potential to turn your life around. There's a lot of injustice in the world. People who are hurting could benefit from the skills you bring to the table. That musician you helped in St. Louis was just the beginning. There are families and individuals whose lives could be made better." He nodded to Neal's wrist. "Maybe whoever drew that giraffe will need your help someday."

What Amy was facing was ten thousand times worse than whatever crap he'd have to deal with at the Bureau. The only diplomas Neal had were ones he'd forged. That hadn't been an issue with the FBI. Where else would that be the case?

Peter sipped his coffee for a moment, giving him time to think it over, before giving another nudge. "You're coming in at eight on Monday morning, right?"

"I told you I'd be there, and I will." He could reevaluate after a month.

Peter nodded, a slow smile forming. "Good. We're giving each other a chance. That's a start."

"You still owe me lunch," Neal reminded him.

Peter relaxed into a snort. "What's this hang-up you have with meals? How about this? Meet me at Foley's Tavern this evening after work. It's just south of the Federal Building and the local waterhole for the Bureau. I bet Jones is free and some of the other team members will likely be there too. Foley's makes decent sandwiches and they probably have some wine you'll find drinkable."

#

"Most of the team joined us that evening at Foley's," Neal said, scraping the last of the chocolate soufflé off his plate. "I met Travis, got to know Jones a little better."

"When you reached the end of the month, did it take you long to make a decision?"

"I didn't even think about it," Neal admitted. "Henry was in town and had orchestrated a birthday celebration for Peter where we wound up going on a treasure hunt to recover stolen items. I really shouldn't give Henry a hard time for his schemes. They're all with the best intentions. Thanks to him, Peter and I didn't butt heads nearly as much during those first few months as we would have otherwise. And how can I give him grief for believing you and I were right for each other?"

"Someday we'll need to properly express our appreciation," she agreed, smiling as well.

"Looking back, I wish I had discussed the events with Henry. He would have pounded some sense into me. Instead, by keeping everything bottled up, I let a minor incident fester into something that nearly destroyed my future." He looked at her. "You said we need to be honest with each other. The corollary to that is being open with each other. I'd like to think I'm getting better at that."

"You are," she declared. "Would the old Neal have told me about Astrena? Confided your doubts about joining the FBI? And everything I've heard reinforces my belief that we're on the right track."

"I feel the same way." The tale of his inner struggle must have been unsettling, but Sara had offered only support and understanding. By sharing their experiences they'd been able to reach a new level of intimacy. It was a moment to savor. "I walked away from the meeting with Peter, confident I'd made the right decision. During my first week at work, I met June and Byron while caroling at the hospital, and June offered to rent me the loft. I used to play the piano and sing for Byron during those last months of his life. He was a former felon. He helped ease the transition."

"And those dragons? You told Peter they didn't represent him and you. Who are they?"

"The blue one is me, all right. The red dragon I viewed as all the obstacles standing in my way. A lot of ferocity in that dragon. Not just the bad guys. My inner demons can be worse than any external ones. Doubt. Indecision. They almost drowned out my instincts." He took her hand. "What happened that week was a game-changer. Peter could have washed his hands of a cocky smartass but he saw something in me which I didn't realize myself."

His demons were circling around Sara too. Fear he'd hurt her. Voices insisting she was too good for him. Peter had challenged him to decide what kind of man he wanted to be. Sara knew who he was and wasn't shying away.

Mozzie once told him that fairy tale endings weren't meant for con men like them. Were he and Sara about to prove Mozzie wrong?

#

El was working at home when Henry called. She was glad she'd already made her tea. This could take a while.

As expected, Henry wanted to know what had been discussed earlier in the week at the latest Arkham Round Table session. Getting him to open up about his kidnapping ordeal was a non-starter. El didn't press too hard. She knew Noelle would be much more effective. Matchmaking wasn't the only secret conspiracy El was party to. She and Noelle had forged a wrought-iron grapevine to keep each other informed about the two lone wolves in their lives.

"I relayed your suggestion about Chad," El said, slipping off her flats. "Including the villain who had kidnapped Sara is a natural addition to the Arkham Files plot. Diana had already sketched out a role for him. You'll like this—she arrived at the meeting with a fresh batch of notes from Neal and Sara."

He chuckled. "Confirming what we thought—they're using the stories to achieve what they can't have in their real lives. What did they suggest?"

"Neal thought it was time for Arkham Neal to take the initiative with Sara. Meanwhile our Sara suggests the addition of the Other Woman. That raises possibilities of jealousy, misunderstandings—"

"Quarrels leading to revelations?"

"It would be a natural sequence."

"It's an interesting wrinkle." He fell silent for a moment. "Neal told me about what happened in the truck—his Van Gogh episode."

"I heard about it as well. We discussed it at the Round Table."

"I know Neal. The likelihood of him becoming involved with someone when he has the curse hanging over his head is nil."

"Yet clearly he enjoys the romantic sparks in the stories even he complains about them. Would you like to meet to review our plans?"

"That will have to wait. Win-Win heard from Japan that they're interested in our facial recognition software package. They want me to give the sales pitch in Tokyo and schedule additional stops in Singapore and China."

"When will you leave?"

"Sunday."

"But you just returned!"

"Hey, this wasn't my preference either. The software team is demanding equal time, and with good reason. It's been a while since I focused on the project. I shouldn't be gone longer than ten to fourteen days. How much trouble can Neal get into in that short amount of time?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"