Chapter 1: Master's in Larceny

Henry's Loft. Sunday, October 2, 2005.

"So much for the vaunted Neal Caffrey charm," Henry said. "I would have had Bianka eating out of my hand weeks ago." As if to prove his completely fallacious statement, he dipped a tortilla chip into the cheese sauce and crunched it with particular gusto.

From his position on the couch, Neal evaluated his options. Attempting to refute the claim would only expose him to more mockery, but Henry expected him to make the effort. "How am I supposed to make headway with a woman who spent the past week in the hospital?"

Henry faked a look of surprise. "A likely story. If she'd actually been in the hospital, you would have informed me immediately. In any case, a hospital setting presents many opportunities. If you'd only asked, I would have been happy to advise you. Gee, I wonder why you didn't. Did you come down with laryngitis? No, that can't be right. You were able to talk to Peter. Did you suffer partial amnesia and forget you had a relative who happens to be your closest friend?"

"You were in Japan," Neal muttered.

"Japan's not in some galaxy far, far away." He waved his chip in the air. "They have phones, the internet—all the modern conveniences."

"I planned to fill you in when you got back."

"Ah, now we come to the crux of the matter. And you intended to do the same about yourself, no doubt. Unfortunately, there was a high probability you would have been dead by then. Oops." Henry arched his eyebrows at him while brushing a tortilla crumb off his lap.

Henry really needed to get a dog, a companion who'd also gobble up his crumbs. "But I didn't die. Christie's run her tests. She's extracted buckets of my blood for verification. You see before you a man certified grade A healthy."

"You need to get a new doctor if that's what she said. How one guy can shed so many pounds in a matter of a couple of weeks escapes me. Have more chips."

Neal pointed to his plate, already piled high with food. "At the rate I'm gorging myself on this delicious dip, my days of being a string bean are in the rearview window." He stood up. "Peter will be here soon. We should get started on those patties."

#

El paused at the entrance to the kitchen to watch her husband. Peter was standing at the stovetop, stirring the contents of a saucepan. He was wearing the grilling apron his father Luke had given him when she and Peter got married. Emblazoned on the black background was the motto "The Legend Continues." Luke Burke had taught his son well, inducting him into the secrets of the perfect pancake, the pickle juice hangover remedy, and the family barbecue sauce.

Peter would leave for Henry's loft in a couple of hours. He'd promised to instruct Henry and Neal in the time-honored tradition of grilling the Burke burger. Much as she would have liked to attend, it may have been for the best that she was scheduled to coordinate a wedding reception. This would be a guys-only affair.

Peter turned to smile at her. "Like a taste?"

"Please." She dipped a spoon in the sauce and gently blew on it. The spicy sauce was as superb as ever. "You've made it a little hotter than usual."

He nodded at the cayenne powder on the counter. "Henry likes Indian food. I threw in an additional jalapeno and an extra dash of cayenne."

"His taste buds will appreciate it. He's been in Japan and I doubt has had much beef. He'll be ready for carnivore fare." Henry wouldn't be the only one. El had reduced the amount of beef they ate at home. This would be as much a treat for Peter as for the boys.

"Neal called while you were upstairs," Peter said. "He finished the Renoir. I'll bring it home with me. Have you decided on where you'd like it hung?"

"Since it's supposed to be a genuine Renoir, the living room might be a little ostentatious."

"Slightly," Peter agreed, chuckling.

"Let's put it in our bedroom. Every morning when I wake up, I'll see the painting you salvaged for me from the Nazi treasure trove."

"Let's hope that's what Rolf believes. When I bring it home, the clock starts on the op. You feel ready?" He eyed her questioningly. "This is your last chance to back out."

El knew how concerned Peter was about her being involved in the con, but she'd already crossed that bridge last month. For weeks, they'd acted as if Peter was taking advantage of the Bureau to feather his own nest. He'd indulged in his love for sports cars by test-driving Ferraris and Lamborghinis. She'd achieved first-name status at several exclusive boutiques. But pieces from the hoard of Nazi-looted art which Neal and Peter recovered three weeks ago were their main lure.

The French had agreed to hold off releasing the names of two of the recovered masterpieces. Neal had painted a forgery of one of them, a Renoir of Madame Chocquet. Peter intended to convince Rolf that he'd appropriated the painting for her.

Grilling burgers wouldn't be the only discussion topic at Henry's. Last month they'd successfully conned Vincent Adler into believing they'd salvaged a U-boat. The fugitive hedge fund manager and Kate were now sitting in a Paris prison where they'd go on trial later in the month. It was long past time for Rolf and Klaus Mansfeld to face the music as well.

El strode over and kissed him. "You know my answer, hon. Whatever it takes, I'll do it. I've already spoken with Yvonne. We've made contingency plans in case—for any reason—I'm not able to be present for an event."

Peter's jaw hardened as he turned down the burner on the stove. "Klaus faked his death a year ago. He and Rolf have been manipulating us ever since. This ends now."

"You think Neal's ready? Only a few days ago, he was flat on his back."

"He claims he feels great. If you'd seen him fence yesterday, you'd agree."

"Henry must have the same concerns."

"I'm sure he does. Neal went over early to fill him in on the events of the past couple of weeks. Henry won't be happy when he sees how much weight he's lost, but Neal's doing his best to regain his strength. Yesterday he was wolfing down protein bars whenever he wasn't fencing." Peter shrugged. "In a perfect world, I'd give Neal weeks before starting this op, but it's for his sake we need to move forward. Now that the art trove has been recovered, Ydrus doesn't have any reason to delay their plans."

El nodded as she ran through her mental checklist. Mozzie had been at their house yesterday, installing extra surveillance cameras and motion detectors. Last week, Tricia Wiese had utilized her skills as a profiler to drill her in techniques to use in the event she was abducted. El's community theater was in rehearsals for Bell, Book, and Candle, but her real-life performance was what kept her awake at night. Peter wasn't sleeping well either, although he refused to acknowledge it. Not only for Neal's sake but for theirs too, they needed to bring the Mansfelds to justice.

#

"The door's open," Henry called out when Peter knocked on the door to his loft in Lower Manhattan.

Neal and Henry were in the kitchen. Judging from Neal's exasperated expression, Henry had probably been laying down the law to him. After greeting Peter, Henry said, "Now that Bianka's out of the hospital, there will be no more malingering. I expect results."

Peter smiled to himself. The fact that Henry was teasing Neal about her meant he believed Neal was sufficiently healthy to handle the con.

"Is this the famous Burke barbecue sauce?" asked Neal eagerly, ignoring Henry's joshing.

Peter placed the pot on the stove. "It is, and I brought along two copies of the recipe. Before I hand them over though, you have to promise to never divulge the recipe to anyone outside the family."

"Deal," Neal agreed happily, snatching his copy. Henry gave him a half-smile as he took his copy. The message was clear. There was nothing like sharing family secrets to seal the bonds uniting them.

Neal had brought over supplies for a Caesar salad. Henry's contribution was a chocolate cake he'd bought at the bakery on the corner. Thanks to Henry's sweet tooth, he'd likely become one of their favorite customers.

Henry stopped at the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. "Chips and cheese sauce are on the cocktail table. We left a little for you. The cheese sauce was made by Eric. He makes it by the quart to have on hand."

Peter took a seat next to Neal and helped himself to a chip. He needed to get the recipe for El. Henry's boyfriend's parents had immigrated from Mexico. This was probably a family recipe, hopefully not a secret one.

Henry flopped on a tan leather swivel armchair. "Eric and I had a celebration last night. His bid to be the architect on a project to build low-cost housing for artists in SoHo was accepted."

"Give him our congratulations," Neal said. "I have several friends in the art department who have heard about the project and can't wait to sign up for an apartment."

"Eric's project works out well for me, too. He'll be working day and night to complete the design on time. Last night was probably the last time we'll get together for a few weeks. We'll have plenty of time to catch up after Klaus and Rolf are behind bars," he added a little defensively as if he realized how it sounded. "This way, no matter what con we pull, I won't have to worry about Eric being caught in the crossfire."

Despite Henry's half-assed explanation, Neal frowned, and Peter agreed. Henry sounded like some probies he'd known. They tried to put their personal lives on hold during a dangerous assignment, but it rarely worked out. Couples grew apart. They developed different interests. When one assignment ended, another one began, and before long a permanent split was unavoidable.

The Bureau was aware of the problem and offered workshops for new agents on how to cope with the stress. From the sound of it, Win-Win needed to do the same. Not that Henry would necessarily accept the help. Both he and Neal took the phrase "need to know" to the extreme. Peter had been lucky. By the time he'd met El, he had seen enough of the issues others faced to recognize the danger signs in himself and was able to prevent them from festering. Eric knew nothing about Henry's work with the Bureau, and that was a concern for their relationship moving forward.

Neal was probably feeling smug that he'd kept himself free from romantic entanglements. And since he was pretending to be infatuated with Bianka, that was for the best. Peter shuddered to think what might happen if Neal were in a serious relationship with someone else. He could easily guess how El would react to a similar situation. He'd be sleeping downstairs on the couch every night with Satchmo his only companion . . . if he was lucky. The Lab generally sided with El.

Peter yanked himself out of helicopter dad mode and settled into the part of crew leader. He didn't plan to fire up the grill for at least an hour, so there'd be plenty of time to discuss the main item on the menu—removing the logjam that was disrupting all their lives—Rolf and Klaus Mansfeld.

Last month they discovered that Bianka had ties to the international criminal organization Ydrus. They suspected the attractive art student had been planted at Columbia University as a spy. When she began to make a play for Neal's affections, they assumed she was acting under the Mansfelds' orders. Neal had offered to run a con on her, but for the past two weeks, the risky game had been placed on hold while Bianka recuperated. It was fortunate timing since Neal was ill as well.

"Is anyone else puzzled why Rolf hasn't pulled the trigger yet?" Neal asked. "I would have thought they'd put the Vermeer painting in play by now."

When Neal was abducted last July, he'd been subjected to a form of virtual reality brainwashing. Fortunately he'd been rescued before the programming was complete. As a result, Neal remembered the false memories which were meant to be embedded in his subconscious. The team knew that Ydrus had engineered the theft of a Vermeer painting to coerce Neal into joining their crew. They believed that the Mansfelds didn't want Neal to quit the Bureau. Instead, they hoped he'd continue studying for his doctorate while working at the FBI. Neal would lead a secret life as an art thief and forger while maintaining the cover of his legitimate activities.

Neal's therapist believed that the false memories were programmed to resurface once the theft of The Astronomer became known. The French were giving them till December to find the missing painting before they'd have to go public about the theft. Neal had painted a forgery of the masterpiece which the French had available in case any inquiries were made about the Vermeer in the interim.

"My hunch is that there's a disagreement at Ydrus," Henry said. "We know Rolf and Klaus are behind the brainwashing, but they're not the ones in charge of Ydrus. Python is."

Peter nodded in agreement. "It's possible she's running an additional scheme with Bianka which they want to implement before the Vermeer is used." Although they hadn't identified Python, an antique dealer named Joanna Abbot was the most likely suspect. She'd first been brought to their attention when she was photographed in a London airport with Klaus Mansfeld. They later learned she was a snake enthusiast. A few weeks ago, she attended a meeting in New York of the World Herpetological Society and that had led to the discovery of her connection to Bianka. Tricia's husband was an anthropologist. He'd analyzed their facial bone structure and pointed out similarities hinting of a blood relationship. "The plan was likely put on hold because of Bianka's illness."

"How is she now?" Henry asked.

"I called her yesterday evening," Neal said. "She's still quite weak. The doctors think the cause may be her immune system which appears to be seriously compromised. The illness has her genuinely freaked out. She doesn't know if it's lupus or something else."

Neal looked genuinely concerned. Outwardly, Neal never voiced any hesitancy about the con, but Tricia had warned Peter to be on the lookout. If Neal felt Bianka was being manipulated or coerced, he would be even more susceptible to whatever scheme Rolf had concocted.

The subject of Peter's concern seemed untroubled by the upcoming issues. "The good news is that Bianka told her doctor I'd come down with a case of mono." He turned to Henry. "When I became ill, that was the excuse I planned to use with her. As it turned out, she was so sick it wasn't necessary, but it will still come in handy."

Henry chuckled. "You're still contagious."

Neal nodded smugly. "Bianka's never had mono. Her doctor is concerned that if she contracts the disease, it could be life-threatening."

"That means no kissing, no . . ." Peter waved his hand to finish the thought.

Neal smiled at him. "Definitely none of that. Not that I ever would have. But it was going to get messy. Here I am supposedly infatuated with her but not interested in being intimate? Klaus knows me too well. He would have seen right through it. I intend to play the part of the solicitous, frustrated lover—denying myself the pleasure of sex out of fear of infecting her with the plague I'm suffering from."

"How long will you be able to milk it?" Henry asked.

"Christie said that after a severe case like I supposedly had, the virus could be active for a month afterward. Plenty of time to con her." Diana's partner was Neal's doctor, an arrangement that was particularly advantageous for times like this when confidentiality was essential.

"Should you still be experiencing symptoms?" Peter asked. He'd had mono as a kid and remembered how sick he'd been.

"Christie said I could have had a brief intense episode and now be okay for duty." Neal smiled as he reached for another chip. "That's essential. Our fencing team has a match with Cornell next weekend. Aidan's already informed me in no uncertain terms that relapsing is not allowed."

Neal's college friends had provided valuable assistance for the con with Bianka. Aidan and Richard were both visual arts students. They also fenced with Neal on the club team. They supplied handy saves whenever Neal needed a timeout from Bianka. Normally Neal was adamantly opposed to including any "outsiders" in a con, but Richard and Aidan hardly fit that description. Richard was the partner of White Collar's tech expert Travis Miller and had already assisted the team. Aidan's day job was as a cybersecurity programmer. He'd worked in tandem with Travis to decrypt Rolf Mansfeld's malware.

"What if Ydrus gets their hands on your medical records?" Henry asked.

"I hope they do," Neal said. "Christie amended her official records to give me a case of mono. If anyone should check my blood, they'll find lingering traces of the virus. Once you've had the disease, it never completely goes away."

Henry appeared satisfied. "You're going to play Bianka's strings like she's a violin."

Neal raised a brow at Henry's oblique reference to the Braque painting, Violin and Candlestick, which Neal had stolen under Klaus's guidance, but didn't argue the point.

Henry didn't stop there. "Peter, you'll con Rolf with the mastery of Eric Clapton."

"I'm fine with the metaphor as long as that's all it is," Peter said, squelching any thoughts of music performances. "The days of my playing guitar in the garage of my parents' house are long gone. Have you picked out a role for yourself?"

Henry smiled. "There's a certain snake that needs attention. When I was in India, I saw snake charmers work their magic with cobras. What would it take to charm a python?"

"Do you have something specific in mind?" Neal asked.

"I'll improvise as I go along."

Peter's inner radar emitted a ding. He was well acquainted with Henry's secret agendas and was determined that there'd be no repetition. Henry had maintained a truce from lone wolf maneuvers during the U-boat con. Now that it was over, did he consider the armistice over?

"To take down Adler, we were pirates," Henry continued, waving a chip in the air. "Peter, that first con was your undergraduate course in larceny. This upcoming one will qualify for your masters."

"As in Masterson Music?" he asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Maybe his days of garage bands weren't over after all. Peter considered Henry's words. He hadn't mentioned Masterson Music. Peter had. Why did he have the feeling he was being played? Henry had devised a devious con to take down a corrupt music publisher, keeping everyone else in the dark until it became unavoidable. Now he'd mentioned being a snake charmer and had led Peter to reference Masterson Music. Was this another example of Henry's mind games?

Rather than scoffing at Peter's reference to Masterson Music, Henry embraced it. "Exactly. A music con. Both Klaus and Rolf are pianists. They're into classical music. We're gonna rock their world." Henry passed him the basket of tortilla chips. "What troubles you, Peter? Tell me your fears and I'll make them disappear."

Peter kept his growls to himself as he dipped a chip into cheese sauce. Henry was still riding the high from arresting Adler, and he was acting far too cocky. He'd been gone for two weeks. He hadn't seen how close Neal had come to being consumed. Neal was looking at him warily, but that didn't help. The kid had lost too much weight. He managed to fence with his team, but was he strong enough to take on the likes of Klaus and Rolf?

"You wanna know the hidden gotchas I'm worried about? Here are a couple. Neal's therapist can't guarantee he won't be affected once the trigger is pulled." When Neal started to protest, Peter raised a hand to silence him. "The doctor who performed the procedure is still a fugitive. We assume Penfold is hiding out at Ydrus headquarters, wherever that is. What if they decide to use the procedure on someone else? We know they'd built a program to test it on Richard." He turned to lock eyes with Henry. "Next time it could be you. Are you ready for it? We barely rescued Neal in time. Next time we may not be so lucky."

"I hear ya," Henry said quietly. "I've been concerned about that as well."

"The best way to ensure it doesn't happen is to take them down now," Neal argued. "Give me a chance with Bianka. If I convince her I'm hers, there may not be a need to pull the trigger."

"No harm in a little extra insurance," Henry said. "Rolf has to be wondering about you. Your recklessness during the U-boat con could be an indication that the implanted memories are starting to leak through. What will he think if we heighten your symptoms?"

Peter liked the direction Henry was going. "You could pretend that your back is bothering you again." In the virtual reality program, Neal had been shot in the back. When he was rescued, he believed he could only walk with difficulty, and it took days before he was able to shake off the associated pain from the non-existent wound.

"My acrophobia could also return," Neal suggested, his face lighting up. "I still yearn to climb the spire of Riverside Church. I may not remember Klaus's exact words, but I itch to explore the gargoyles."

Peter suspected that Neal wouldn't have to fake the urge. Klaus had told Neal in the virtual program that he'd hidden a gift in a dragon gargoyle high atop the spire of Riverside Church. Neal had admitted how driven he was to climb the spire to see what was there.

"My desire to be a thief could be at war with my work," Neal said, extending his arms on the back of the sofa as he grew more expansive. "I could distance myself from the team, subconsciously remembering that they were my accusers."

"You could even begin to have symptoms of schizophrenia," Henry said. "We could make Klaus panic they'd gone too far. If you become psychotic, you're useless to them," he added bluntly.

"Not only that, but it could lay a heavy guilt trip on Klaus," Peter pointed out. "He thinks of you as a younger brother. Now he'll witness you self-destruct. He'll hardly want to add to the problem. Do you think you could pull it off?"

Neal nodded confidently. "I studied schizophrenia when Diana had my character in Arkham Files worry he was suffering from the disease. I bet Doc Jacob could provide some tips."

"I want to be there for that discussion," Peter said. "I also have questions for him." Neal's initial acrophobia had been a manifestation of the PTSD he'd suffered after he believed he'd witnessed Klaus's death. If he started faking the symptoms, was he in danger of falling victim to the phobia once more?


Notes: In Chapter 2, Neal gets to test his strategy on Bianka, and Travis delivers a present.

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: The Musicians 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.