Chapter 1: Travel Plans
June's Mansion. December 12, 2005. Monday evening.
The octopus edged ever closer. Its tentacles coiled around Neal's arms in a stranglehold from which there was no escape. He was doomed.
"Having fun?" Mozzie asked, walking into the living room.
Neal surveyed gloomily the piles of tangled Christmas lights encircling him on the floor. "Fun isn't the word I would have chosen."
Mozzie crouched next to him. "June's house is already decorated for Christmas. What are these for?"
"She decided that since her daughter's family will be spending Christmas with her, she'd like to have the staircase banister decorated as well. She told me there were extra lights in the attic. What June neglected to mention was that her three-year-old granddaughter Samantha must have put them away."
Mozzie rubbed his hands. "A veritable Gordian knot. I'll take this clump . . . after helping myself to some of June's excellent Bourbon eggnog." He paused. "Lactose-free?"
"Of course."
He proceeded to pour himself a generous amount from the carafe chilling in the ice bucket. "Where is our hostess?"
"She's at the Harlem Jazz Museum board meeting." Neal was glad for the company. He'd put on Christmas music, and June had left a plate of cookies to go with the eggnog, courtesy of Chef Emil, but singing by himself had lost its thrill.
"I thought I'd find you frantically tapping on your laptop. Didn't you tell me your papers are due this week?"
"I decided to take a break from the Impressionists." Neal surveyed the octopus of miniature lights which was once more attempting to devour him. "That may have been a mistake."
"No, it wasn't. You'll fly through the paper after I reenergize your brain cells with Operation Checkmate."
Neal stood up. "I'll require another cookie for that." They were in the final stages of the Clueless con, a conspiracy to keep his dates with Sara a secret from matchmakers Henry and El. Their well-intentioned assistance had not been necessary. Sara provided plenty of sparks without the need for additional help. But since the matchmakers mounted a covert operation, he and Sara decided to make a game of it as well. During the fall months, the cover Neal maintained for a case made it impossible for him to date anyone, at least openly. But that operation was now over, and it was time to wrap up the Clueless con.
Mozzie, Peter, and El were already in the loop, as well as Neal's friends at Columbia and the Arkham Round Table writing group. The final stage of the con—Operation Checkmate—was designed to lead Henry to realize he was being played and give him time to adjust so he could claim victory when Neal and Sara went public. When Sara was transferred to London, the con acquired international dimensions.
"I assume you still want to recreate the scene described in Arkham Files," Mozzie said, dropping a freshly untangled string of lights onto Neal's lap.
"That's essential," he said, wrapping the tamed tentacle around a cardboard tube. "Sara and I invented the con in July. It was her idea to devise a New Year's challenge for Arkham Sara."
"I remember when she suggested it to the Arkham Round Table. I thought it was quite clever. Arkham Neal called Sara a mockingbird because she was a fearless and a tireless investigator—"
"—who never stopped pestering him with questions," Neal added, smiling at the memory. When he returned from Los Angeles, Sara employed a psychological technique that rivaled one of Henry's. By focusing on their Arkham counterparts' issues, she made the obstacles they faced in New York seem less daunting.
"Arkham Sara, who is a singer of abysmally low talent, challenged Neal to teach her to sing 'Mockingbird' so that they'd be able to perform a duet on New Year's Eve. I never heard if our Sara has been duplicating her efforts."
"She has," Neal confirmed. "And I'm happy to report she's not as bad as Arkham Sara, although she swears that's the case. We want the con to wrap up on New Year's Eve with a spectacular party to honor the matchmakers."
"Have you decided where to hold it?" Mozzie asked, deftly unknotting a second string. This was a man, after all, who could solve a Rubik's cube with his feet in thirty seconds, with or without socks.
"Not yet," Neal admitted. "I'm leaving on Sunday for Italy, and Sara's joining me there for Christmas. We first thought of trying to do something in Italy, but arranging for everyone to fly over on our budget . . ." He shrugged. The trip to Italy was designed to take advantage of his end-of-year vacation days. The necessity of a trip was legitimate. He'd decided to write his master's thesis on a family of Italian artists, the Carracci. The trio of two brothers and a cousin were pivotal in the transition between the Renaissance and the Baroque. They reminded Neal of his and Henry's relationship. They straddled legal and illegal worlds and were now transforming the stodgy mindsets of traditional bureaucracies. Or, at least, that was how they viewed it. Sara would meet him in Florence. After Christmas, they'd fly back to New York to have a wrap-up party.
"There's also the problem of taking our friends away from their families," Neal added. "El and Peter plan to spend Christmas in Albany with his parents. Henry's taking Eric to Baltimore."
"It would be a shame to not take advantage of your trip," Mozzie said. "Janet will be in Venice for New Year's Eve. She's friends with an Italian designer who's enlisted her help with costumes for the Diziani Ball. I plan to join her there for the festivities."
The Venetian masked balls which preceded Lent were justly famous, and the Diziani Ball was one of the most elegant. Held on New Year's Eve in a fifteenth-century palace on the canals, it marked the beginning of the Carnival season.
Neal released his hold on the string of lights as party thoughts danced in his head. Given the disguises he and Sara had used during the Clueless con, a masquerade would be the perfect wrap-up. Perhaps they could find a masked ball in New York they could afford. "I'm sorry you won't be able to attend our coming-out party, but we can hardly compete with Venice."
Mozzie frowned. "And why would you want to?"
"Didn't I just say we couldn't afford to fly everyone to Italy?"
"Tosh," he interrupted, waving a hand draped with lights as if he were a reveler tossing Mardi Gras beads. "This has been an exceptional year what with finder's fees and remuneration for assorted services—not to mention the generosity of Gordon Taylor and the dazzling success of the honey wine business. Let's see . . . we'll need ball tickets and accommodations for you, Sara, the Suit and Mrs. Suit, Henry and Eric, airfare, incidentals. Yes, these are mere trifles."
Neal couldn't believe his ears. Mozzie sometimes called himself Neal's guardian angel. He was now transforming into fairy godmother status, and not just for him but Sara as well. "That's exceptionally generous of you, but I couldn't possibly—"
"Of course you could. For the U-boat con, you and Sara tricked us all with your Harlequin and Columbine act. Even though you didn't know it, you were setting the seeds for Venice by choosing figures from the commedia dell'arte. It may have been because of that Degas painting you forged of the couple that Janet was inspired to write to her friend."
Neal smiled as he pictured the couples in gondolas. He and Henry had fond memories of the Venetian resort in Las Vegas during their time on the road. Several times they'd tried unsuccessfully to be hired as gondoliers. Henry needed to experience the real Venice.
"Your U-boat masquerade deserves to be rewarded," Mozzie continued. "Janet will be able to arrange for bargain rates for the costumes. I'm not without contacts in the airline and hotel industries. Do you think June would like to attend?"
"I'm sure she would, but she's already made arrangements to take her family skiing in Aspen after Christmas."
"When she hears she'll miss the party of the century, she may change her mind. Still to be determined is how to con Henry and Eric to be in Venice at the correct time. I have some ideas in mind. With a little more application of eggnog, I'll have even more."
"How will I ever be able to repay you?"
"I'm sure we'll think of something," Mozzie said airily, his face assuming the look of someone who was bursting with more news. Neal felt the ground shift. Was that quicksand under his feet?
"You need more eggnog," Mozzie declared, standing up. "I should spike it with an additional dollop of bourbon."
Definitely quicksand. "Have pity, Mozz. I still need to work on that paper tonight. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"Well, since you asked . . ." He refilled Neal's glass from the carafe in the ice bucket. Judging by the amount of whiskey he added, this exchange of favors could be one for the record books. "And as long as you're going to be in Italy anyway . . . You remember my contact at the Vatican library, Luchino Borroni?"
Neal nodded warily as the quicksand rose to his waist. Would Mozzie bring up the Vatican's secret vault? He was a fervent believer even though the Vatican vehemently denied its existence.
"Luchino heard rumors of an original Dante manuscript." Mozzie's face assumed a beatific expression. For a collector of rare manuscripts, discovering an authentic Dante was the equivalent of finding the Holy Grail. There were no known autograph examples of his handwriting—not even his signature—in the world.
"That's why you're going to Italy!"
He shrugged. "Janet's plans were already made. We'll simply arrive a little earlier."
"We?"
"I know you wouldn't want me to break into a Mafia kingpin's house on my own." Before Neal could say anything, he added, "You'll be in Italy anyway. Consider this a small diversion. And weren't you just saying you didn't know how to thank me?" He smiled happily. "Problem solved!"
#
"Neal, this is exceptionally generous of you," Peter said once he realized his consultant wasn't joking. "New Year's in Venice does indeed sound spectacular, but we couldn't possibly let you pay our way." Peter knew Neal planned to make a big splash for Henry on New Year's Eve, perhaps a dinner party at one of the restaurants or even a bash at one of the music clubs, but nothing like this.
He should have realized something was up when Neal arrived at his office bearing Italian-roast coffee and biscotti. What he didn't understand was why. Neal was presenting him and El with a magnificent all-expenses-paid trip. Why did he feel the additional gesture was necessary? Heightening Peter's suspicion was Neal's discomfort to his expression of thanks. Usually Neal basked at any praise. Not today.
"It's really Mozzie you should thank. He made the offer yesterday evening." Was that a hint of embarrassment in Neal's expression? "He's done very well financially this year."
"And . . .?" With Mozzie, there was always a catch.
"And while we were talking, I realized this would be an excellent opportunity for me to meet with Claudia Gallini."
Claudia was the Italian representative on the Interpol art crimes task force. They'd met her at the get-acquainted meeting in London when the task force was formed. At the time, she'd extended an open-ended invitation for Peter and Neal to visit the Carabinieri headquarters in Rome.
"Why do you want to meet with Claudia?" Peter asked, his unease growing. "I thought this was a study trip to allow you to research your thesis."
Neal took a breath. "Mozzie convinced me that there may be something even more worthwhile pursuing—an original manuscript by Dante. His contact at the Vatican library believes one may be in the possession of a Mafia boss."
"This is why he's paying our way?"
Neal shrugged. "Mozzie's love of Dante may be equal to his passion for wine."
"That high? Then you better give me the details." Peter resolved to temper any mocking remarks. For Neal, this was about as straightforward as it got. Yes, in a perfect world, he would have reported the conversation directly rather than leading Peter through the back door, but at least Neal was disclosing Mozzie's subterfuge. It was a safe bet that Mozzie wouldn't have.
"What's the name?" Peter asked.
"Gino Nardone. As it happens, I have his file with me." Neal placed the folder on his desk. "I knew you'd like to have something to read while munching on biscotti."
Reminding himself of his pledge, Peter refrained from a sarcastic rejoinder and skimmed the contents of the document. Nardone owned a large estate near Florence. He'd been head of an investment firm but had retired at a relatively young age to manage the vineyards on the property. "Your case has a major issue," Peter noted. "Although there have been a few rumors, there is absolutely no hard evidence that Nardone is involved with the Mafia."
"Luchino—that's Mozzie's Vatican contact—is convinced it's true."
"Care to clue me in on how you propose to find out if Nardone has a Dante? And this time, take me through the front door."
Neal winced. "For the record, Mozzie advocated a simple break-in, but I knew you wouldn't approve."
"Thank you for realizing that obvious truth. What did you come up with as an alternative solution?"
"The Mansfeld file includes a reference to a buyer in Tuscany. Mafia bosses are known to invest in fine art. If Luchino is right about the Dante, Nardone could be this buyer. We could set up a sting, offering something to tempt him. If he nibbles, that would provide the justification for a search warrant."
Peter exhaled, drawing it out deliberately. "Those are two Hail Mary passes, neither one of which may pan out." Travis and his team of tech specialists had been working on the decryption of Rolf Mansfeld's computer files ever since the cybercriminal was arrested. The results were turning into a Pandora's box which could lead to significant arrests but they were also laden with hidden pitfalls. Rolf had prepared a list of buyers of artworks. The buyers were often only identified by location. The Tuscany reference was one.
"We should at least give it a shot," Neal argued. "Steinar shouldn't rest on his laurels."
Rolf Mansfeld had intended for Neal to work for him, leading a secret life as a thief and forger while continuing to work at the FBI. To take advantage of the Mansfeld file, Peter had agreed to assume the role of Rolf. His alias for the ops was Steinar Wolff. The last transaction had been handled on the dark web. This one, if it was approved, and that seemed highly unlikely based on what Neal had told him so far, would likely also be negotiated on the web.
"What do you have to offer as bait?" Peter challenged.
"That Da Vinci painting I made when I was a prisoner in Hungary," Neal said promptly, indicating he'd expected the question. "It's an excellent forgery. I'll stake my reputation on it standing up to scrutiny. The original is in a museum in Parma. If Claudia can persuade the museum to take it off exhibit for a couple of weeks, we'd be able to claim I stole it and am now putting it up for auction."
Neal leaned forward, resting his arms on Peter's desk. "It's the perfect setup. We wanted to duplicate what would have happened if Rolf had been able to carry out his scheme. My cover as a student is ideal. I could stop off in Parma, so if anyone checked, I could claim I'd stolen the work then."
"That also makes your third Hail Mary. Do you honestly think you'll be able to get the Italians to agree?"
He grinned. "How much harder can it be than Operation Checkmate?"
"Speaking of which how do you plan to get Henry to Italy without spilling the beans?"
#
"That was the same question Peter asked," Neal said, taking a sip of his current favorite morning brew, a smoky Sumatra. With Sara in London, they'd taken to talking over her lunch hour which translated into early morning for him. When Sara came down from the ceiling after hearing about Mozzie's offer, her mind raced ahead to how they'd be able to trick Henry.
"Do you know when Henry and Eric leave for India?" Sara asked.
"They have tickets to fly out late on New Year's Day. Since Henry always flies first class, switching his flights won't be an issue. They could leave just as easily from Venice. The trick will be getting them there. Our partner in skullduggery came up with the solution."
"What was Mozzie's idea?" Neal could hear the smile in Sara's voice.
"For this maneuver, it's best you call him Athos."
"Richard and Aidan are helping?" Sara had known about his fellow musketeers for a while. When his best friends at Columbia had helped him elude an attempted fraud by Garrett Fowler, Richard called himself Porthos. Aidan was Aramis. Mozzie was first introduced to the group as Athos. Their ranks since then had expanded to include Sara in the guise of Constance.
"They'd hoped to play a role, and it's only fitting. Henry has longed to be a musketeer. This can be considered his initiation. I suggested he'd be perfect for the part of Planchet, d'Artagnan's servant, but Henry claimed the role of captain, Monsieur de Tréville. And, as everyone knows, pranking one's captain is considered de rigueur."
"Are there any other actors in this cast of thousands?"
"You should include Richard's parents since they set the con into motion . . . roughly twenty-six years ago. His birthday is on December 19."
"Details, please!"
"Travis is hosting a dinner party at an Italian restaurant to celebrate. Unfortunately I won't be in town, but that may be for the best as Henry will have less reason to suspect anything devious. He and Eric will be invited as well as Aidan and Keiko. Mozzie is friends with the owner of the restaurant who has also been persuaded to be a member of the con."
"I think I know what you have planned," Sara said excitedly. "One of those restaurant drawings where customers place their business cards in a bowl and some lucky person, who is never me, wins a free dinner."
"And you wouldn't win this time either," Neal said. "Eric will be the lucky recipient of the fabulous prize. He'll find out a couple of days after the event."
#
Two days later, the only potential squalls on Neal's horizon were the snowstorms predicted for the weekend. He'd finished his seminars on Wednesday. The last papers had been turned in. His flight to Rome was scheduled for Sunday, with the first-class ticket provided by Mozzie.
The team planned to hold a surprise party at the office on Friday to celebrate Peter's second anniversary as leader of the White Collar task force. The actual date was the day before, but Jones thought there'd be less flak about holding a party on a Friday. Diana had given Neal strict instructions under pain of bodily injury not to mention anything about anniversaries before then. She needn't have worried. Football, not anniversaries, was on Neal's mind.
Peter could wave his arms all he liked about the futility of Hail Mary passes. Neal had just thrown a successful one. Claudia welcomed his proposal with enthusiasm. She'd heard the rumors about Nardone being a Mafia boss and believed the sting was worth the risk. She'd secured the grudging permission of the museum in Parma to remove the Da Vinci from view. There was no need to spread misleading information in the press. If Neal were to actually steal the painting, the news would be kept out of the newspapers for at least a couple of weeks. Mozzie and Jones would provide more than adequate publicity of the theft on the dark web.
Late in the day, Peter stopped off at his desk in the bullpen. "I should have realized you were an excellent quarterback."
"It's all in the hands," Neal said complacently, "and having great wide receivers."
"Mozzie's hands may not be as skilled. Claudia hasn't heard anything about a missing Dante manuscript."
"True, but she's excited about the possibility," Neal pointed out. "Plus, it's the season for miracles."
"A little divine intervention never hurts," Peter said with a chuckle. "You'll arrive in Parma Monday morning. You think it's reasonable to believe you'd be able to steal the Da Vinci that night?"
"It's tight but achievable. There's no way of knowing if Rolf contacted Nardone and told him about me, but just in case, we're prepared."
"And that's because your fellow crew member Mozzie is already laying the groundwork?"
"This time he won't arrive much earlier than me," Neal assured his skeptical boss. "Mozzie doesn't want to miss the Arkham Round Table session that's scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Now that Diana has surrendered part of the writing duties to him, he takes his responsibilities very seriously."
"Jones will post an ad for the Da Vinci on the dark web next Tuesday," Peter said. "On the extreme long shot that we get a nibble, I'll move up our travel plans and bring the Da Vinci with me. Otherwise, El and I will meet you in Venice on the thirtieth."
Neal smiled. "You better start your packing list for Florence. I'm feeling lucky."
Notes: The Diziani Ball is fictitious. I named it after the Baroque artist Gaspare Diziani and patterned it on the equally fabulous Tiepolo Carnival Ball.
In 2022, I revisited this story and expanded the content. As a result, some of the reviews no longer match the chapter references.
Visuals and Music: Italian Masquerade board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Background on the Caffrey Conversation AU for new readers: The series was created by Penna Nomen and begins with her story Caffrey Conversation. Our blog has a list and short summaries for all the stories. The primary difference from canon is that Neal was never sent to prison and the characters are several years younger. The personalities of canon characters (Elizabeth, Mozzie, Diana, Jones, Hughes, June, and Sara) are the same. Peter recruited Neal in 2003 when he was 24. In the fall of 2004, he entered Columbia University's graduate program in art as a part-time student. Working with the White Collar team are two non-canon characters: Travis Miller, a technical expert, and Tricia Wiese, a profiler
