Chapter 14: Taking the Cure

Peter found the entrance to the tunnel behind Rolf's desk just as Neal had described. One of the wood panels in the wainscoting concealed the entrance. Someone had used it in a hurry. The panel hadn't been fully secured. While a team guarded the opening in the office, Peter and Henry sprinted outside, accompanied by Miklos and two other detectives. Before leaving, Peter took only a second to glance at the painting of The Astronomer on the wall. There'd be plenty of time to scrutinize Azathoth's lair after he was captured.

"This has to be the trail," Henry pointed out, speaking in a whisper. "Neal said it led into the woods north of the castle."

"How far away from the building was the exit?" Miklos asked.

"About fifty meters," Peter said. Miklos translated the information to the agents who'd accompanied them.

The trail was dense with undergrowth on both sides. As they neared the approximate location, they searched in silence. If Rolf had used the tunnel he could remain hidden inside until he thought the coast was clear. Peter doubted he'd already fled, but the possibility couldn't be overlooked. The perimeter of the estate was blanketed with personnel. Even with his knowledge of the terrain, Rolf would have difficulty escaping their net.

It was a frosty morning in the mountains. The thick carpet of dead leaves crackled underneath their boots despite their efforts to maintain silence. A manhole lid hidden in the ground cover would be difficult to spot.

Henry grabbed Peter's arm, but he'd heard it too—the distinct scrape of a heavy metal object on the path several feet ahead. Everyone sprinted forward to hide behind fir trees.

About four feet off the path, a metal plate was slowly being raised. First a head, then shoulders emerged.

No one moved till Rolf hoisted himself out of the tunnel and took a step forward.

"Freeze!" Peter ordered as Miklos barked a command in Hungarian. Before Rolf could react, they swarmed in on him and it was over. Azathoth, the anonymous cybercriminal who'd bedeviled them for a year, was no more. Rolf Mansfeld, ex-mathematics professor, would soon be wearing a prison jumpsuit.

Rolf looked bewildered at Peter in his disguise. Did he recognize Peter's voice? He'd know soon enough who'd arrested him.

#

Apprehended in the raid were both brothers, Erasmus Penfold, and over thirty Ydrus operatives and staff. The doctor had been discovered hiding underneath a lab table on the fourth floor. It was unclear how many of the staff were engaged in Ydrus activities, but everyone was taken in for questioning. There was a minimum of bloodshed. Aside from Anya, the only injuries were relatively minor gunshot wounds. Peter had relayed the word to New York as soon as Neal was rescued. By now, Jacek and Bianka should have been taken into custody.

There was no sign of Count Lambert. When Miklos quizzed the household about him, he was informed the count was away on an extended trip. More revealing was a closet in Rolf's suite which contained prosthetics, a wig, and several old-fashioned suits. Peter suspected Rolf disguised himself as Lambert when an appearance was necessary. The real count was likely dead, his body buried somewhere in the surrounding forest.

By the time Peter and Henry returned to Neal, he'd already been examined by medics.

"They said I'm fine," he reported, brushing aside their concern in typical Neal fashion. As aggravating as it was, it was also reassuring to see him behave as he would normally. And, just like before, no one believed him.

Henry turned to Sara. "Is that true?" he demanded.

"More or less," she hedged. "Neal's been medicated for a week with unknown drugs, but his vitals are good." She smiled at him. "Best not to drive a sports car for a little while longer."

Peter didn't press. He was grateful that Neal looked able to travel. Once back in New York, he'd need to undergo a thorough physical and be cleared by Doc Jacob before he could return to work. For the moment, their account of how Rolf was captured was the best medicine they could give him.

Neal appeared to follow the details without any issue. This was Peter's first chance to see him in good light, and physically he appeared in reasonable shape. His movements were, by Neal's standards, slow and tenuous. It was clear the drug or the ordeal or a combination of the two was still acting on him.

"Klaus saved my life," Neal said quietly. "Anya had ordered Penfold to perform some kind of procedure on me, but I don't know the details of what was planned. This morning, just before you arrived, Klaus was going to help me escape. Then Python showed up. She would have killed me if Klaus hadn't stopped her."

"And that will be taken into account," Peter assured him. "The suspects are being taken to Budapest for processing."

"The Da Vinci on the easel in my room . . . can I keep it?"

Peter hesitated, not at all sure it was healthy to have a reminder of the ordeal.

"Please," Neal added. "It's important."

"Why's that?" Henry asked.

"It's hard to explain," Neal said, raking his hand through his hair.

"Give it a try," Henry urged.

"She helped me survive when I didn't think anyone knew where I was."

Neal often bonded with paintings he was working on. Had this one become part of his coping mechanism? "I'll speak with Miklos about it," Peter told him. "I doubt there'll be any problem."

"Thanks," Neal said gratefully. "Before we leave, I'd like to see the house, the paintings that were recovered. Up to now, I've only been in my room and a couple of hallways."

"The electricity's back on," Henry said. "If you feel up to it, let's take a tour now."

Peter seconded the idea, not only because he wanted to see the place too, but the tour would give him a chance to assess Neal's condition.

The castle was four levels plus a basement. An annex building provided additional living quarters. They spent the least amount of time in Penfold's research area. That was at Neal's wish, but Peter had already made arrangements with Miklos that all the files would be shared with the Bureau. Neal explained how close an escape he'd had from being reprogrammed. If a patient hadn't died, he would have undergone the procedure the preceding day.

Peter was most intrigued by Rolf's office. The painting of The Astronomer hung prominently on one wall with an armillary sphere and other Renaissance instruments displayed underneath. It was here that Rolf had devised his strategy. Had he read Diana's stories from that computer? The layout of the office, as well as every other room in the castle, would be thoroughly photographed and documented before anything was removed.

The ground floor held the public rooms for show purposes. Sara was their guide in the basement where another treasure trove awaited them. Many of the missing art masterpieces were held in a vault-like facility, including the Hilliard miniature which had been stolen last summer as well as several paintings taken from the Getty Museum.

John Hobhouse joined them as they were making the tour. He and another Interpol agent would assist the Hungarians with the art. They found Mozzie perusing the books in the library. He probably would have been searching Rolf's office but it was already sealed by the police. Peter was sorely tempted to have Mozzie frisked before leaving the estate, but this time he'd get a pass.

Henry kept Neal from lingering in any one room too long. Hobhouse and the Hungarians would be in charge of inventorying the contents.

"Before we leave, there's one more area you need to see," Neal insisted. He led them to the fourth floor where the medical lab was. But rather than going inside, he opened a small door leading to a porch overlooking the roof of the castle. The narrow parapet was barely large enough for all of them to stand outside, and strong wind gusts made the air frigid. Peter and Henry shielded Neal but he didn't appear to feel the cold. Sara remained at the entrance to give them more room.

"Klaus brought me here every morning," Neal said, surveying the vista of mountains around him. "Ostensibly it was to overcome my fear of heights. It was the only place we could talk without fear of being recorded. The Whistler painting in my room acted as another trigger. Did you know that?"

"We feared it was the case," Henry said quietly, keeping a firm grip on him.

Neal nodded shakily. "It called up memories of me attempting to steal a painting and being rescued by Bianka and Sandor. But Klaus told me the truth. He told me that Bianka was working all along for Ydrus. Anya is . . . was her sister. He said that you were okay, that I'd be able to return to New York, that they were leaving Ydrus. This is where he warned me about Penfold."

"Let's go inside," Peter said firmly. "Even for a polar bear like me, it's too cold." Neal's shakiness was increasing by the moment.

Henry gripped Neal's upper arm. "It's time to go home, kiddo."

New York City. October 21, 2005. Friday evening.

Henry opened the beveled-glass front door to June's mansion. "Man, does this look good."

He wouldn't get any arguments from Neal. Although he'd been back in New York for close to twenty-four hours, most of the time had been spent in a seemingly endless round of doctor visits. He'd slept through the flight from Budapest. Henry sat beside him in the first-class cabin. A few times, Neal woke up in a cold sweat, confused about where he was, but Henry was there to reassure him. Sara and Mozzie were also on board. Peter elected to stay behind for an extra day to help coordinate the inventory and deposition of Ydrus evidence.

After catching a few hours of dreamless sleep in his own bed, Neal was shuttled first to Christie then to Doc Jacob. The results were positive enough to allay even Henry's fears. Christie confirmed that he no longer displayed physical symptoms of being drugged. As to what it was he'd been given, the results of the blood work wouldn't be available for a week. Christie would also receive a report from the Hungarians about the drugs found in the lab.

While Neal was undergoing tests at the hospital, Henry left to pick up some clothes and stop briefly at his office. Otherwise, he appeared determined to provide round-the-clock security service. Even though the threat was over, everyone except Neal fretted about lingering psychological effects. He wasn't. He'd gone through it before. His disorientation was nothing compared to what he'd experienced after Los Angeles.

Jacob cleared him to return to work on Monday while offering future sessions as Neal wished. His was the first known case of a dual trigger being used with virtual reality manipulation, and Jacob couldn't wait to get his hands on the evidence from Penfold's lab. Unlike the first trigger, Neal knew the memories were fake from the outset. They'd already faded significantly by the time he saw Jacob.

June was still in Chicago. She'd given the staff the weekend off, and the house was quiet when he and Henry finally returned home late in the day on Friday. They headed straight upstairs to the loft. Familiar surroundings. Routine. That's what everyone advised.

Neal knew better than to think he could immediately return to feeling normal. He'd been conning Bianka, Adler, and Ydrus for close to four months. It seemed strange that he didn't need to pretend to be someone he wasn't. Jacob had placed him on restricted duty with no undercover work for a minimum of three weeks.

Henry opened the door to the fridge. "I see Mozzie has supplied you with a plentiful stock of honey wine. You want it or something else?" He reached for a beer for himself.

"Wine will be fine," Neal said, sighing with relief as he sprawled onto the couch. He predicted one glass and he'd be out like a light, but before that happened, there was something he needed to find out. "Mozzie's offered to stay with me. Don't you want to head back home?"

Henry flopped into the armchair next to the couch. "Plenty of time for that later. Humor me."

"Have you spoken with Eric?"

"Yeah, I called him when I stopped by my loft."

"How is he?"

Neal tried to keep his tone casual but something in his expression must have alerted Henry because he immediately straightened and shot him a sharp look. "Who told you?"

"Travis. I called the office while waiting to see Christie. Why didn't you tell me about the photos?"

"I planned to, eventually. You had enough to absorb. Eric understands. Travis spoke with him and shared as much as he could. My resemblance to Dean threw him for quite a loop." Henry gave a small smile. "Eric wished he could have met him, but my double left late last night. Sam needed his help on some job."

"Travis told me. A werewolf was causing problems in Ohio. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Dean together as well." Neal paused to take a sip of wine. "Isn't Eric leaving on a trip tomorrow?"

"Yeah, he'll be gone for a week. I know where you're going with this. There'll be plenty of time for us to reconnect when he returns. Eric understands that you're the number one priority right now."

Henry didn't appear to realize how guilty that made Neal feel, but this wasn't the time to object. "I talked with Angela. She's coming over for breakfast tomorrow before reporting for work at the Emporium."

Henry fell in with the suggestion, little realizing what was in store for him.

#

When Neal answered the doorbell early the next morning, Angela dropped her bags and rushed forward with a squeal, wrapping her arms around him. She'd no sooner released him than she repeated the maneuver with Henry.

"I hope I didn't wake you up?" she asked.

"I'm still on Hungarian time," Neal confessed. "Cratered at six last night. Twelve hours should be enough for anyone."

"You get dispensation for a few more days." She took a breath and scanned both their faces. "It's over now?"

Neal nodded. "Hard as it to believe, it really is. All the bad guys are locked up."

"So our lives can return to normal?"

"Absolutely," Henry assured her.

Did he appreciate the extent of Angela's grin at his words? He was falling right into her trap.

"Where would you like breakfast?" Neal asked. "The house is ours for the day. I can offer you immediate seating on the upstairs terrace or in the dining room."

"Let's make a picnic of it outside. You didn't prepare anything, I hope?"

"Not me," Neal assured her. "I followed your instructions to the letter."

"Good, because I stopped off at the Emporium and loaded up with the makings for a Hawaiian breakfast."

"What did you bring?" Henry asked, sniffing the bags.

"Malasadas, Kona coffee, and POGs. What more could you want? And, yes, Henry, some of the malasadas are chocolate."

"I know malasadas are donuts," Henry said, "but what's a POG?"

"It's a beverage made from passionfruit, orange, and guava. If you drink enough of it, you won't feel as guilty for the malasadas."

Minutes later, on the terrace, sprawled around a wrought iron table with the Manhattan skyline beckoning around them, Neal truly felt he was back in the clouds.

The previous evening, he'd fallen asleep on the couch shortly after returning home. Henry roused him at some point to move to the bed. He'd slept the night through, only waking once. He'd noticed Henry sleeping on the couch and thought vaguely about telling him to move down to a guestroom where he could have a real bed, but he knew Henry wouldn't have agreed. He was worried about nightmares, but Neal had finally awoken from one when they freed him.

Now he was ready to resume his life. Henry needed to do the same.

"Michael sends his best," Angela said.

"Manhattan Geeks keeping him busy?" Henry asked.

"And then some, but not too busy to sign the card." She pulled out the birthday card Neal had made for Eric. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but it had been only a couple of weeks. Neal had made a pen-and-ink drawing with color washes showing Angela, Michael, him, and Eric standing next to one of the props Eric had made for last month's Renaissance Festival. Neal had also included Henry in the group even though he'd been away on a business trip. Angela had suggested the theme and text—wishing Eric another happy year of helping her with props. When Neal teased her about it, she said Eric would love the message. It demonstrated that he was now part of the family.

Henry stared at the card, speechless.

"You probably have another card," Neal said, easing the expected pain. "But we thought you could sign ours, too."

"When you see Eric, tell him Michael already has a cake design in mind," Angela said, driving home the birthday message. Michael's hobby was baking cakes, and he particularly enjoyed making theme cakes. "This cake will be the best one ever. He's making a model of the set we used for The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse."

Henry swiped a hand over his mouth and grimaced.

"What's the matter?" Angela asked. "You will be seeing Eric, won't you?"

"Help me out, guys. How badly did I blow it? When is his birthday?"

Angela had been right. Henry, the man who vetted their dates, hadn't done the same for himself. "Don't worry," Neal assured him. "You still have time. It's on the twenty-eighth. That trip he's taking is his way of celebrating. He works for a week with Habitat for Humanity, picking a different country in Central America each year. This year it's Guatemala."

"And I didn't even ask—"

"Not your fault," Neal said quickly. "It's mine. I've been monopolizing you, but that stops now."

Angela's expression grew serious. "I know what happened with that woman, Henry. You two need a fresh start. You've been here for both of us, and Eric's trip is our chance to do something for you. You're going with him to Guatemala."

"But I can't leave Neal now!" he protested.

"Yes, you can," Neal said firmly. "You don't have to worry about me being alone. Peter came home yesterday. He and El are coming over later this morning. Mozzie's joining us as well and will stay the night. June returns tomorrow. I really will be fine."

"Neal and I've been working on this for weeks," Angela said. "You can't turn us down. I've already discussed it with Radha and Sofia at Win-Win. Noelle's assured me you're due comp time after your trip to Asia and whatever you did in Hungary."

"Angela made the final arrangements last week," Neal added. "Habitat for Humanity knows you're coming. The only one who'll be surprised is Eric."

"If you hurry, you'll have time to pack," Angela said, reaching into her bag and pulling out an envelope. "This contains your itinerary and tickets. Noelle helped me use some of your frequent flyer miles for them. Your flight leaves this afternoon. It's the same flight Eric's on, but he knows nothing about our scheme. Noelle and I bumped up his reservation because we knew you'd want to fly first class. When you see him at the airport, you can call it part of the birthday surprise."

For once they had him. Henry looked completely buffaloed . . . and happy. "I don't know what to say."

"You better say ¡Hasta la vista! if you hope to get ready in time," Neal said, standing up and giving him a push. "We'll box up your breakfast supplies. You can eat while you pack."


Notes: Klaus and Rolf have defied death. Now they are in handcuffs. Will they quietly fade away? I wrote about what may happen to Klaus for the blog. The post is called "Klaus at the Crossroads."