Chapter 2: Operation Checkmate

Neal's loft. Sunday morning.

"Aren't you done?" Henry eyed Neal's stuffed bags. "How much more stuff can you cram inside?"

"Just a couple more shirts," Neal said. Plus the next move in Operation Checkmate. Henry had offered to drive him to the airport. In a few hours, Neal would be on the plane for Parma. He'd already planned to spend time at the National Gallery which has an outstanding collection of Renaissance and Baroque masters. Now he had a second purpose. The museum had promised to remove the Da Vinci from the gallery during the night on Monday. If anyone was tailing him or had access to surveillance cameras, they'd see him spend the day at the museum. The next morning he'd fly to Rome.

"We'll miss you at Christmas," Henry said. "Eric was looking forward to having a buffer from all the relatives."

"Tell Eric he has nothing to worry about. He's already met almost everyone, and his stock is platinum." Neal paused, shirt in hand. "I wish I could attend Richard's birthday party. He told me he'd invited you and Eric. Will you be able to go?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Travis is hosting it at Canaletto's."

Neal spun around. "Isn't that the name of the restaurant we liked at the Venetian Resort in Las Vegas?"

Henry nodded. "A branch recently opened in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. I've yet to try it out."

"I'm doubly sorry I can't attend. You'll have to give me a full review." He turned back to rummage in the drawer. "Now, where's my turtleneck?"

"Which one? I'll help you look." Henry glanced at his watch. "If you want to make the plane, you better step on it."

Neal snapped his fingers. "I remember. It's in the laundry room. I'll be right back." He darted out of the room before Henry could say anything. The laundry room was in the basement. Neal intended Henry to have ample time to search his suitcase. They still had a comfortable margin to get to the airport.

Buried among his shirts was a small zippered nylon bag which contained Matthew, or rather Matthew's hair, a shaggy blond wig Neal had worn whenever he was disguised as Sara's fictitious boyfriend. For months, he and Sara had conned their friends that they were dating Alicia and Matthew, when in reality the two were simply avatars of themselves. A few weeks ago, Sara had deliberately let slip she was meeting Matthew at a restaurant. Neal had worn the wig for the occasion, and he'd observed Henry spying on them. His super-sleuth brother wouldn't be able to resist snooping through Neal's bag.

When Neal returned upstairs, Henry was casually sprawled in a chair arranging the chessmen on the board. "You took a while. I thought I'd have to play chess with myself."

"Devising a new gambit?" It will do you no good. Operation Checkmate is locked and loaded. Henry had been careful, but not careful enough. Neal had left the tab of the zipper up and it was now in the down position. Matthew had been outed.

#

Henry held his celebratory whoop in check till after he'd dropped Neal off at the airport. It wasn't easy. He'd been consumed by an almost irresistible desire to give Neal a noogie for the con he'd pulled. Henry had been right, after all. For months he'd wondered about the man Sara kept heaping praise on, but she'd always avoided using his surname. That, in itself, was suspicious. It wasn't in vain that he'd spied on Sara and Matthew at a restaurant a few weeks ago. At the time, he'd considered the possibility that it was Neal in disguise, pretending to be Matthew. He should have stuck by his hunch, damn it. He was right.

But why did Neal do it? Sara had first mentioned Matthew last July. Just what kind of con was it? Had Neal talked Sara into the masquerade at the restaurant as a prank because he suspected Henry was checking up on him?

The thought made Henry swerve out of his lane onto the shoulder of the expressway. He'd found out about the date at a speakeasy party at June's. Neal was riding the high of completing a long and painful con against the Mansfelds. Peter had restricted him to office duty which translated into Neal feeling bored. This would be just the sort of stunt he'd pull. Sara would have been happy to go along. Neal had been abducted, drugged, and held prisoner for over a week. Who could deny him anything?

But that didn't explain why Neal was taking the wig to Italy. What if Matthew didn't exist? Neal knew Henry thought Sara was a good match. After all, Henry had set up Neal and Sara to volunteer at the same shelter for runaways over a year ago. In hindsight, that was a mistake. He'd been too obvious. Mistake number two was pretending not to read the Arkham Files stories. It had always stretched credulity that Henry would ignore stories that featured Neal, and now that Diana had inserted him into the stories too, it was unthinkable.

Henry groaned. Two dumbass moves. Neal likely suspected he'd been feeding Diana ideas for the stories. That was the only logical reason he would have pretended he wasn't reading them. This was one chess game where Henry was perilously close to being checkmated.

Neal might have thought that if Henry believed he was dating Sara, he'd stop checking into his love life. But rather than having fake dates out in the open, Neal had persuaded Sara to go along with a pretend secret relationship where they would hide the truth from everybody. Would Neal be that devious? Of course, he would.

Neal knew Henry would analyze the situation, determine that either Sara or Neal was shy about dating publicly, and would decide to give them the space they needed. And, all the while, Neal would continue to date Alex or whoever else he wanted.

Or was Henry guilty of over-analyzing the issue? He smacked his hands on the steering wheel in frustration.

What were the knowns? Alex Hunter had registered in Lyon for Thanksgiving at the same hotel used for an Arkham Files Thanksgiving story. Alex's reservation had been quickly canceled. There were no reservations in Neal's name, but he could have had the information deleted by the time Henry checked. Was Neal playing a game or had he been genuinely inspired? There was a sure way to find out.

In the latest Arkham Files story, Neal and Sara spent New Year's Eve at a hotel near the pyramids in Egypt. Who wouldn't be inspired by the romance of that night? Italy was a diversion. On New Year's Eve he'd be in Cairo. And Henry would be there to unmask whoever his brother took along.

Henry had seen the D.C. fireworks innumerable times. Celebrating the New Year in Cairo would be much more spectacular. He and Eric were going on a week's vacation to India at the start of the year. They could simply leave a couple of days early and stop off at the hotel in Cairo referenced in the story.

Perhaps El could discover Neal's itinerary. Peter would likely insist on being informed of his travel plans. But that presented another issue. Neal somehow had roped Peter into the con. Peter had told Henry that he and Neal were going to the planetarium on the evening Henry spotted Neal in disguise with Sara at the restaurant. Had Neal canceled at the last minute or was Peter in on the scheme? Did he suspect his wife was a co-conspirator?

The only way out of this mess was to start a new gambit. Henry had been calling his efforts to guide Neal toward Sara Project Enlightenment. He needed some of that himself. On New Year's Eve, he'd finally find out the truth.

Henry's Loft. Monday evening.

"Neal missed quite a party," Eric said, shrugging off his corduroy jacket.

"I know he regrets he couldn't go," Henry said. Aidan and his fiancée Keiko had also attended Richard's birthday bash. Would Neal have brought a date? If he hadn't, he would have been fair game for teasing.

Henry stripped off his sports jacket and hung it in the closet. The lights of Manhattan twinkled through the large windows in the bedroom. Brooklyn Bridge looked as if it had been decorated with holiday lights. This was his first Christmas in his new loft. He'd persuaded Eric to move in a month ago, ostensibly to help train his puppy Splash, but he hoped Eric would agree to make it a permanent arrangement.

"The music, the murals on the walls—some of the waiters even spoke Italian. I felt like I'd been transported to Venice." Eric turned to Henry as he loosened his tie. "Have you ever been there?"

"Not yet, only the Las Vegas version."

"Maybe one of us will win the restaurant drawing." Eric smiled. "I'm feeling lucky."

"That's quite a prize. Air travel for two to spend New Year's Eve in Venice. A masked ball, fireworks over the canals. The restaurant business must be more profitable than I realized."

Eric walked over and placed his hands on Henry's hips, drawing him close. He murmured in Henry's ear, "Would you serenade me in a gondola?"

"I'll serenade you anywhere you'd like," Henry said, his voice growing husky as he breathed in Eric's scent of sandalwood and citrus. "If one of us doesn't win the drawing, how about a stopover in Egypt on our way to India? I hear the fireworks over the pyramids are quite spectacular. I know of a hotel with a magnificent view, gorgeous suites . . ."

"I think I'd rather ride in a gondola than sit on top of a camel, but I like the direction you're going. Shouldn't we have a warmup session for New Year's Eve?"

"Who needs fireworks outside? We'll make our own."

Rome, Italy. Wednesday, December 21, 2005.

Neal was on the third day of his study tour of Italy. This was the first time he could explore the museums in Rome without having to focus on an upcoming heist. Thanks to his university credentials, he was able to gain access to restricted areas and skip the long entrance lines which were unavoidable for the general public. He'd earmarked the afternoon for the Borghese Gallery but already realized he'd need a minimum of another day there.

So far, extracurricular issues hadn't been a concern. He and Mozzie were staying at the same hotel, but Mozzie was spending most of his time with his friend Luchino at the Vatican library. Up to now, Luchino had failed to divulge any details about the secret vault—much to Mozzie's disgruntlement. Nor had there been any nibbles about the Da Vinci listing on the dark web.

That was fine with Neal. He had a few more days to concentrate on art before Sara's arrival. She'd fly to Florence on Saturday. They'd spend Christmas and the following week together. Despite his promotion of the case to Peter, this was one trip where he'd just as soon not have any Mafia-induced complications.

When his cell phone rang and he saw Peter's name on the display, he had mixed emotions. It was too soon for Peter to be wishing him a Merry Christmas. Whatever Peter was calling about was bound to be case-related. But Neal could hardly grumble since he was the one who'd suggested it. And, okay, running a con on a Mafia kingpin was a Christmas present of sorts to his inner kid.

"Have the New York Giants been calling you?" Peter asked.

Neal grinned while his inner kid performed cartwheels. "Not yet."

"You should be hearing from them at any moment. Any guy who can succeed with so many Hail Marys has a bright future in professional football."

"I'd just as soon avoid the tackles. I take it you got a nibble?"

"Jones got a reply this morning. He's currently negotiating a meeting. The prospective buyer wants the transaction to be conducted in Florence, and yes, I remember that's where the Mafia boss is located. It looks like your hunch that Nardone would take the bait is paying off. Can you be in Florence on Wednesday, the twenty-eighth?"

"Sara and I'd already planned to stay in Florence till the thirtieth."

"Stick to that plan. El and I will fly there, arriving on the twenty-seventh."

"I'm sorry this will shorten your time with your family in Albany."

"Don't worry about it. We've moved up our arrival date to spend additional time with them on the front end. It's probably not necessary to mention how excited El is about going to Florence." He paused for a moment. Neal could hear the faint drum of his fingers on the desk. "Mixing a vacation with a sting is not my formula for success."

"I realize that. I would have preferred different timing as well," Neal admitted.

"We'll be operating without our normal support team. You'll have to sacrifice part of your vacation with Sara."

"On the plus side, I'll be able to count the time as workdays, right?" Neal asked hopefully.

"Both of us will. I'm going to ring up Claudia now. Effective immediately, you're no longer Neal Caffrey, grad student. You're back on duty."

#

"You know what this means, right?" Mozzie's eyes glinted through his glasses as he looked expectantly at Neal.

It was an immense relief that Peter wasn't present for the conversation. Neal sensed that one of those gray areas which Peter had such difficulty in dealing with was about to pop out. Fortunately, he didn't have the same issues. Besides, he owed Mozzie.

Neal had called him with the good news after Peter rang off. Mozzie had already seen the activity on the dark web. He asked to meet at a bar on the Piazza di Sant'Ignazio, the plaza where the Carabinieri headquarters was located. The art crimes branch of the Carabinieri was housed in a lovely Rococo building clad in peach-colored terracotta. It was conveniently located not far from Mozzie's home away from home in the Vatican library. The piazza was quiet and traffic-free. It provided an ideal setting for strategizing their next move over a plate of antipasti.

"I'd like to get your take on how it will go down," Neal said. He had an appointment with Claudia in an hour. Whatever Mozzie's fertile imagination came up with would no doubt have a bearing on his upcoming discussion.

"The Suit will work with the Carabinieri to set up a sting, hoping to trap the Mafia boss when he purchases your Da Vinci. But that by itself won't implicate our mark in anything. He'll claim that he was unaware it was stolen or that he assumed he was buying a forgery."

"I know," Neal said after swallowing a bite of prosciutto. "But the purchase should provide enough justification for a search warrant of his estate. Hopefully, that will lead to the discovery of the Dante manuscript."

Mozzie shrugged. "You're familiar with official searches. They don't begin to compare with our skill."

Neal eyed him warily, knowing the answer already. "What do you propose?"

"That we go on a shopping expedition first. Then we can provide the polizia with the details on what to look for." Mozzie smiled. "I can hear their expressions of gratitude already."

Neal took a slow breath. "You're back to wanting us to break into a Mafia boss's estate?"

"What more delightful adventure could there be?" Before Neal could start rattling off alternatives, he added, "I've been researching Signor Nardone. His vineyards are quite famous for Carmignano wine and grappa. In a few days, he's holding a reception for buyers. We could easily sneak in."

The idea was tempting. With their expertise in wine, no one would suspect them. "And Peter won't hear of it?"

"I certainly don't plan to tell him, and I assume you won't either. You could attribute any discovery we make to an anonymous source of Luchino's."

Mozzie had thought of all the angles. Neal's only official status in Europe was as a member of the Interpol art crimes task force. Claudia had seemed amenable to a flexible approach. And he should be grateful Mozzie wasn't asking him to break into the Vatican library in quest of the secret vault within the archives.

Mozzie dabbed his mouth with a napkin. "Oh, by the way, I've arranged for us to have a special tour of the Vatican library this evening with Luchino. He'll supply you with the details of the Dante then."

#

"Can you share any information about your source?" Claudia asked.

Neal liked Claudia. She reminded him of Agent Tricia Wiese. She was roughly the same age with shoulder-length brunette hair. Her willingness to consider unorthodox tactics was a decided plus.

"I wish I could," Neal said, speaking the truth. "He's the friend of a friend and insists on anonymity."

Claudia had a tiny office but the view overlooking the piazza more than compensated for the cramped surroundings. On the walls were framed photographs documenting art recoveries by the Carabinieri. Neal recognized some of the paintings as works by Italian and Dutch masters. He hoped she'd have equal success with their case.

She made a note on a pad of paper in front of her. "If he wants to claim a finder's fee, he'll have to come out from behind the curtain, but we'll put that aside for the moment. Signor Nardone is a man of considerable influence. Obtaining a search warrant ordinarily isn't difficult in Italy, but for someone of his status . . ." She finished her thought with a shrug. "As for any stolen property, although we have the right to seize it, that doesn't necessarily lead to him being charged with a crime. If he claims to be unaware of the provenance of the art and can't be connected to the theft, he will probably escape prosecution. Do you think your contact can provide additional details about which pieces have been acquired?"

"He's attempting to. The sting will most likely take place in Florence. Will you lead it or will the Florence branch of the Carabinieri be in charge?"

She smiled. "For this, I'm more than willing to sacrifice my Christmas holiday."

#

El wiped her hands on a dishtowel. She could wash dishes while the biscotti baked in the oven. A CD of Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas music was playing in the background. The kitchen smelled of almonds and chocolate. Let the festivities begin! Peter promised to arrive home early, and they'd leave immediately afterward for Albany. On the way, they'd drop Satchmo off at her sister's.

When the timer dinged, she turned on the oven light. The biscotti were a last-minute addition. El would leave them with Peter's parents for them to enjoy while they were in Italy. She stopped to hug herself that it was really happening. Their suitcases for Italy were already packed. She was deliberately traveling light so there'd be plenty of space for purchases.

She removed the two logs from the oven and placed them on a rack to cool. Just in time, too, for no sooner had she set down the baking sheet than the phone rang. She smiled when she saw Henry's name. This would likely be their final scheming session before Venice.

"Merry Christmas, Henry!"

"And season's greetings to my fellow conspirator. Did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, the biscotti need to cool for several minutes before I slice them." She heard a soft moan and added, "They're chocolate and almond."

A louder groan. "I knew I should have come by in person."

"Is this a matchmaking consult?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm giving that a rest, but I do have an update for you. Neal is pretending to be Matthew."

"No!" El called forth all her acting skills to pretend to be surprised. Neal had given strict orders that they weren't to lie to Henry, but she could claim her surprise was over Henry figuring out the truth. Henry's discovery of the wig was just as Neal had predicted, but his conclusions were unexpected. None of them had discussed the possibility that Henry might believe Matthew was a real person and that Neal was masquerading as Sara's boyfriend in order to trick Henry. Not that he seemed to mind. He was clearly amused by Neal's deviousness.

"I should warn you," Henry advised. "Neal's roped Peter into helping him."

"Not necessarily. Peter might not have realized what was going on," she pointed out. "Neal could have fabricated an excuse to cancel at the last minute."

"True," he acknowledged, "but be careful about what you tell him."

"Thanks for the warning." So far so good. The masked ball would simply be more of a surprise.

"I suppose we should be flattered that Neal is taking advantage of the romantic scenarios we invented for Arkham Files for his assignations with Alex. The smoking gun was my discovery of the canceled reservation in her name for the hotel in Lyon."

"But you told me you didn't find a reservation for Neal."

"That just goes to show he suspects I'm checking up on him. It's also why he tried to mislead me with the wig. He planted it in the suitcase, knowing I'd search the contents. He wants me to think that he's dating Sara in secret, but I'm onto his games."

El rolled her eyes at Satchmo. Operation Checkmate was growing more complicated by the moment.

"Mark my words. Neal intends to meet either Alex or Sara in Cairo over the winter holiday and reenact the scene we'd designed for Arkham Neal and Sara." Henry groaned and El wanted to as well. "If Neal intends to usurp our New Year's spectacular and take Alex instead, that's dirty pool. I was all set to stop off in Cairo with Eric to pay Neal and his date a surprise visit. It would teach them right," he added in a low grumble.

At that, El's heart stopped for a beat. "You used the past tense," she ventured.

"Yeah. Would you believe Eric and I will celebrate New Year's Eve in Venice?"

El did her best to transform her gasp of relief into one of surprise. The looming catastrophe was averted. "I thought you were going to India."

"We still are, but thanks to Eric's incredible good luck, our trip has been expanded." As Henry related how Eric got a call with the news he'd won the drawing and how excited they both were, El began to purr.

"Eric told me this is the first time he's ever won anything. He called me his good luck charm." Henry gave a chuckle which made him sound embarrassed and happy at the same time. El would have to be careful that her purrs weren't so loud Henry could hear them. "I made a case for going to Cairo, but I have to admit this masked ball sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

If you only knew how true that was. She looked forward to telling Neal how close he'd come to having his grand reveal ruined by Henry's overly devious brain. As far as she was concerned, this con couldn't end quickly enough.


Notes: You may have noticed that this chapter begins on Sunday, four days after the end of Chapter 1. Penna's story, A Caffrey Christmas Carol, describes what takes place during that very eventful weekend.

Many thanks to Penna Nomen for beta services. Penna was the one who thought of a restaurant drawing to entice Henry and Eric, and we invented a fictitious New York branch of Canaletto's Ristorante in the Venetian Resort. There is a restaurant called Canaletto on the Upper East Side, but to the best of my knowledge, it's not connected to the one in Las Vegas. We tossed around plot bunnies for this story during a writing retreat in Las Vegas, and that's the subject of my blog post this week—"Ideas from Writing Retreat 2018."