Chapter 15: Cat and Dragon
"I'm glad you were able to persuade Henry to leave," Mozzie said. "How would you have explained Sara coming over?"
"That might have rung the death knell to the Clueless con," Neal admitted. Sara was due to arrive any minute. He and Mozzie were waiting in June's living room at the end of a day filled with friends and familiarity.
"You can't end the con now! I'm just getting started. You wouldn't want to deprive the matchmakers of the entertainment they'd receive by attempting wits with me."
Sara had told Neal how Mozzie unmasked their scheme. His participation could add a new dimension. But the most important benefit from Neal's perspective was that Mozzie and Sara would have a chance to become even closer. "Sara told me you're quite content with your character of Reverend Green."
"Pastor of the Chapel of Love? It's the natural role."
When the doorbell rang, Mozzie leaped up first. "Allow me." A minute later, he strolled in arm and arm with Sara. "I hope you don't mind if I leave you two alone."
Thank you, Reverend Green!
"Janet has tickets to the Broadway show Wicked," he added. "It may inspire thoughts for the con." Mozzie turned to Sara. "Gracie, would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to spend the evening with Neal?"
She sighed theatrically. "I'm willing to make the sacrifice."
"Excellent. If you decide to spend the night, you needn't bother about putting a sock on the door. I'll call before I return." He gave an exaggerated wink and headed off, chuckling all the way.
Neal grinned. "I feel like a teenager with our parents out of town. Whatever will we find to do to entertain ourselves?"
"You can leave that to me," Sara said, giving him a smile indicating their minds were thinking alike.
A full moon shone over the terrace when they went upstairs to the loft. This was the first time for him to be hosting her in his rooms since they'd been a couple. He'd no sooner opened the door into his loft than she was in his arms.
Sara had made him promise not to cook, and he'd kept his word, but that didn't prevent him from planning a special evening. The table was lit with candles. There were fresh flowers. He'd bought pate, cheese, and bread, and had prepared a composed salad.
But dinner could wait.
#
Eventually some of the food was eaten, but mainly they feasted on each other. As the night lengthened, they lingered over the last of the wine in bed. Sara was wearing one of his pajama tops. The midnight-blue silk did little to conceal her curves. He had the bottoms on. They were hidden from the world in the seclusion of his loft. Nothing outside its four walls seemed very important.
Sara raised her glass to his Da Vinci painting which was now displayed on an easel in the corner by the couch. "Your painting is beautiful. She looks like she was meant to be there. But won't she serve as a reminder of what you endured?"
He draped his arm over her shoulders and fingered a lock of her hair. "In my mind, you were the one I was painting. You were what kept me sane. I was able to ignore the flashing images by shrinking my world to where it was just you and me in our own inner space."
She put her glass down and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "Then I want you to always keep her near at hand. She'll be my proxy when I'm not here."
Neal had never noticed so clearly the golden highlights in her eyes. They pulled him inside her, dissolving the fear and confusion. Thoughts of the past week unraveled and disappeared. His world turned to emerald and gold.
When he awoke the next morning and found her nestled next to him, the warmth of her body transported him once more into a shimmering haze. He couldn't remember having any dreams during the night, and he never wanted to dream again. Sara was real. She was beside him. He was home.
Mozzie didn't call till much later in the morning when they were eating croissants. Neal appreciated that he didn't come over. June was due back in the early afternoon. They only had a few hours left to be alone.
Sara stood up and brought over the coffee pot. "Do you still feel like someone's monitoring you?"
"Getting over it will take a while," he admitted, holding up his mug. "I scoured the loft yesterday for bugs." He smiled. "And now I've learned there's a new woman in my life. Tell me more about Gracie Walters."
"My alias in Hungary? Gracie is also the name of my sister's plush giraffe."
"The one you have in your bedroom? I knew she belonged to Emily. Who named her?"
"She did," Sara said, sitting back down. "She loved giraffes. She had a silver giraffe pendant she never took off. Wherever she is, I bet she's wearing it." Sara glanced over at the worn plush dog in his bookcase. "Gracie should meet your puppy. Is that yours or June's?"
"Mine, and since we're sharing secrets, here's a big one. That dog used to belong to Henry. He gave it to me when I was three. That was shortly before I went away."
"Went away? You mean you moved to another city?"
Neal nodded. "But it's more complicated than that. I grew up in WITSEC. My mother and I were given new identities and relocated when I was three. I grew up as Danny Brooks. All ties with our relatives were severed. She's still under the protective custody of WITSEC."
"I knew there was something mysterious about your childhood. Growing up under WITSEC must have been very difficult."
"It wasn't as bad as you might think. I wasn't aware of the real situation for many years."
"What about your father?"
He knew that question was coming and was ready for it. "He's the reason we were in WITSEC. He was a dirty cop. I haven't seen him since we entered the program. I assume he's still alive but we were ordered to never look for him. When I joined the FBI, the marshals fabricated a ten-year history for me to satisfy the Bureau. I was also warned not to use FBI resources to locate him. It'd be dangerous for everyone involved."
"But you couldn't have been in the program during those years you were on the road with Henry or in Europe afterward?"
"I left the program my senior year when I was told the truth about my dad. Up to then, I believed he'd died a hero." Neal shoved a hand through his hair as old memories resurfaced. "I didn't handle it well. I ran away from home. That's why I didn't graduate from high school."
"Let's talk about it another time," Sara suggested, reaching over to clasp his hand. "You're in recovery mode from Hungary. You shouldn't have to deal with anything else."
He didn't want to admit it, but Sara was right. This wasn't the moment to discuss his father. His thoughts were too confused just like with Klaus. Jacob had advised against attempting to process his emotions for a while and when he eventually felt up to it, Jacob offered to help. "Here's the part relating to Henry. That's much more straightforward. When I fled, I made a real hash of the situation." He forced out a chuckle. "I crashed my car into a lake and wound up in the hospital with pneumonia. By then, I'd cast aside Danny Brooks and was using Neal, the name I'd been given at birth, and Mom's maiden name. I left the hospital before I'd fully recovered and took a train to Chicago. At about the same time, Henry was looking for me, hoping we could reconnect. He found me in Chicago, got me well again, then delayed getting his degree to go on the road with me."
Neal retrieved the pooch from the bookcase.
"I named the dog Henry when I was a toddler, but I forgot who the real Henry was." He turned to Sara. "This fellow was the only link I had to my cousin for fifteen years. When we reunited, Henry told me about my other relatives, but the only one I met was his father till after I'd joined the FBI. Henry's been watching over me since I was 18. The one break was when Robert blackmailed me to stay away. That's when I fled to Europe. When I returned to the States, Henry's protective instincts were redoubled."
"He must feel extra responsibility because of his father's actions against you. It's understandable he's so concerned about who you date."
"Now that Rolf and Klaus are captured, I hope he can relax and focus on his own life."
"I doubt Henry's ready to lay down his superhero cape," she predicted and smiled. "That reminds me. Mozzie told me about your idea for Henry in Diana's stories. It's the perfect role."
Neal grinned. "I'd like to see him pretend that he doesn't read them now. I also have progress to report on the love front." He told her about the photos and Angela's project to salvage Henry's relationship with Eric.
"I hadn't heard about Anya. I'm glad you could convince Henry to leave. He and Eric need to heal, too. So, what do you recommend, Professor Plum? Should we come out of the closet?"
"I've been ready for over a month. But we should wait till they return from their trip. And now that Mozzie's involved, he wants to make a game of it."
"He won't be the only one who'll be disappointed if we come out too soon," Sara said. "Henry and El have devised an elaborate scheme for Arkham Neal and Sara. If we reveal ourselves now, they may feel frustrated."
"What are you saying? That we should let ourselves pretend to be swayed by the stories?"
She placed her arms on the table, leaned forward, and gave a sly smile. "That's one possibility. I'm sure our fellow conspirator would like to propose additional ones."
He considered for a moment, his mind flitting among options. Peter wouldn't let him do any fieldwork for weeks. He'd need to have something to work on. "Do you know what the matchmakers have in mind?"
"Mozzie gave me a clue. He suggested I watch The Spy Who Loved Me."
"Is the clue the location? Do we get to prowl among Egyptian ruins in evening clothes?"
"I wish I knew more. Mozzie is almost as reluctant to reveal spoilers as Diana. He'll probably grow even worse. He hopes she'll let him do more of the writing."
"Reason enough to have the stories continue. We could also let the matchmakers see hints that their strategy is working." He patted the plush dog. "That could be the best gift of all for Henry."
#
Peter met Tricia in her office on the Behavior Analysis Unit floor on Tuesday morning. Looking at the photos of her sons on her desk, he recognized he was stressing about Neal as if he were still a captive. Had he been worrying about Neal for so long, it was impossible to stop even when he wasn't in danger? Perhaps Neal wasn't the only one who needed to see Jacob.
"What's your assessment?" he asked. "Am I wrong to be concerned about Neal's feelings toward Klaus?"
Tricia should know if he was off base. She'd spent a large part of the previous day with Neal, reviewing every detail he remembered from Hungary. At Neal's request, Peter took part in the debriefing, but he'd kept his comments to the minimum. He didn't want to place any constraints on Neal talking openly about the events.
Afterward, Peter consulted with Doc Jacob who assured him that Neal was recovering well. Neal had spent lengthy sessions with him on Friday and Saturday. The false memories were already fading and he wasn't having any difficulty in recognizing them for what they were.
"Your feelings are natural," Tricia said. "Neal is worried about it, too. He was the one who raised the issue of Stockholm syndrome. But Jacob doesn't think so, and I agree. Neal's anger toward Klaus has been tempered somewhat, and he wasn't expecting that to occur. Klaus saved him from Python's attack. It would be difficult not to feel grateful."
"When you put it like that, I owe Klaus a debt of thanks, too. When I heard about his actions, it made me wonder how much of a role Diana's stories played. Did that image of Sornoth, the saber-toothed leopard, function as a trigger for Klaus?"
"That's my suspicion. We know very little about Klaus's relationship with Rolf. We hoped to separate Rolf from Ydrus, but the story plots may have worked equally well on Klaus. Rolf is twelve years older than his brother. The way he enjoyed manipulating Neal leads me to suspect he treated Klaus the same way. We've characterized Klaus as the aggressor, but from what Neal tells me, you could make the case for him being a victim as well. If the change in attitude is real, Klaus may not be fully aware of it."
"And now Klaus could harbor a subconscious resentment of Rolf." Peter stopped to consider the likelihood for a moment. Klaus confided in Neal that it was Rolf who'd instigated the partnership with Ydrus. He'd even intimated that Rolf wanted to break up his marriage to Chantal. "If we drove a wedge between those two, I'm glad. And I suppose if Neal wants to make Rolf the main villain, there's no harm."
Tricia's smile didn't extend to her eyes, but she didn't say anything.
"Anything wrong?" Peter demanded.
"It's probably nothing." She smiled ruefully. "Old habits. I'm so used to analyzing Azathoth's every action, I'll probably continue for quite a while. Do you find anything suspicious about the death of the Ydrus agent who was one of Penfold's patients?"
Peter nodded. "The timing raises a red flag, doesn't it? Just before Neal was due to undergo the procedure, a patient died. Klaus told him the drugs would be stopped, but they were resumed less than twenty-four hours later."
"Did Anya find out Klaus killed him?" she asked. "Was that why she stormed into Neal's room shortly before you launched the assault?"
"He'd been a leopard protecting his cub?" Peter paused to consider it. "Hopefully the surveillance feeds will reveal the truth."
"Then there's Rolf. If he believes we poisoned his relationship with his brother . . ." She paused and gave a small shrug. "Let's hope he stays locked up."
Tricia didn't dwell on the potential issues, and Peter wasn't about to either. On the plane home, he'd stewed over what lingering damage might have occurred to Neal from that virtual reality session in Los Angeles. No one knew anything about the second trigger until Neal saw the Whistler painting. Had something else been planted? Peter had gone so far as to talk to Jacob about it, seeking reassurance. But all Jacob could give was a pointed recommendation to stop torturing himself as long as Neal didn't display any symptoms. Good advice.
Hypothetical revenge scenarios were off the table as far as he was concerned. The long list of criminal charges might keep both brothers incarcerated for the rest of their lives. Simply sorting out the order with which crimes would be prosecuted was a monumental task. Interpol was working with the Department of Justice to streamline the process. Hungary was itching to press forward on kidnapping and murder charges. Based on the recovered artworks, Ydrus could be charged with crimes in the United States, England, France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, the Netherlands, Italy, Spain, Czechoslovakia as well as Japan and China. And that was merely the art crime aspect. Separate entities would deal with the arms trafficking wing of the operation. The kidnapping charge was the most straightforward. For many of the art crimes, there was no direct linkage as to who had actually committed the theft. A clever lawyer could cast a lot of doubt and the Mansfelds would hire the best.
#
The topic continued to be discussed at the team briefing later that morning. "My hunch is that the crimes in the States will be prosecuted first," Jones said. "Neal's kidnapping was the most recent crime. There's clear evidence for the theft at the National Gallery of Art. Plus, we have your testimony about Rolf's attempt to steal the Van Gogh painting. Once they're convicted of those crimes, it will simplify the procedure for the others. And the Kolars and Bianka are already being held in the States."
When Bianka was interrogated on Friday, she'd been informed of the death of her sister. Her grief appeared genuine. She broke down and confessed to her role in the con. The sisters' last name was in reality Orosz. Their parents—members of a local crime gang—had died when Bianka was four. The sisters were then placed in a foster home and raised by the Kaldys. Anya was eleven years older. She'd assumed a different identity and continued a secret life in the underground.
Bianka was cooperating with authorities. Peter suspected she'd get off with a relatively light sentence. He was glad Neal hadn't asked to speak with her. The false memories which had been planted about Bianka made any contact inadvisable.
"What's the latest on the Ydrus files?" Diana asked Travis. "Are Rolf's encrypted with the same code you'd deciphered earlier?"
Travis gave a dry chuckle. "When has he made it easy for us? The Ydrus files are manageable but the files on Rolf's hard drive are encrypted in a manner which will haunt Aidan and me for months." His eyes widened as he realized what he'd said. "Not literally, of course."
"I'm writing that down," Diana declared and picked up her pen. "Plot bunny from Travis: Azathoth casts a spell on a computer program. Hmm. Computers are at an early stage in 1975 . . . This will need a lot of work." She glanced at Neal. "Has it sunk in yet that Azathoth's not out there somewhere in the ether, spying on you?"
"Peering at me and Peter through the wormhole? It's starting to. But Azathoth has been looming over all of us for so long, it will take a while to adjust."
"That's true for all of us," she agreed, "which is why June and I decided what we need is a big party to celebrate."
"A speakeasy party!" Neal trumpeted. "Yes! You and your fellow members of the Arkham Round Table need to take a bow. Your stories played a huge role in bringing down Ydrus."
"This could be the final party," she warned.
"Just because Rolf and Klaus are captured, I hope that doesn't mean you're going to stop writing the adventures," Peter said.
She shrugged. "There's no compelling reason to continue."
"But how about your fans?" Jones protested. "Won't they be upset? You've got Arkham Neal infected with ymarite. Arkham Jones hasn't found a girlfriend yet. And June needs a purpose for all those lava lamps she's accumulated."
"You sound like Mozzie," she snorted. "The next story is already written, but I haven't decided how much longer to continue them."
Diana's words weren't unexpected. Tricia had already discussed the issue with him. Peter, for one, would hate to see them stop, and he knew El felt the same way. "Those stories have been valuable for many reasons. But I'm aware of how time-consuming they are. How does the Round Table feel?"
"They don't want to stop," she admitted. "Mozzie's even offered to take up the writing mantle. And I must admit, I'm curious to see what he'd come up with."
Neal exchanged smiles with Peter. He knew Diana wouldn't be able to leave them alone. Hadn't she just collected a plot bunny from Travis?
At the close of the meeting, Neal lingered behind. "Will you still be able to take off this afternoon?"
"I even brought a change of clothes."
His jaw dropped. "You're planning to do it with me?"
Peter chuckled at his reaction. "I've done my share of climbing. Besides, based on the hints Diana's been tossing my way, this will be good practice for the next story." And no way will I let you ascend that spire without me.
#
Neal climbed out of the maintenance hatch onto the steeple of Riverside Church and looked at the panorama of the city spread below him. "I feel like I'm on a cloud!" He held out his arms on either side of him. "And observe, not a twitch!"
Peter crawled outside and stood beside him on the narrow ledge. That reaction was the real reason he'd allowed Neal to make the attempt so soon. They both needed to know that Neal was no longer being influenced by Rolf's mind games.
"This is Manhattan's version of Mount Kilimanjaro," Peter said. "I suppose we should thank Klaus for giving us a reason to be here." They had an eagle's eye view of the Columbia campus, the Hudson River, and Central Park.
"I never thought I'd hear you thank him for anything," Neal said, looking surprised. He paused for a moment. "Maybe someday he'll be grateful for being captured."
Neal didn't sound as if he were joking. "I wouldn't count on receiving a thank you from prison," Peter cautioned, not wanting to react too strongly in case Neal was imagining a best-case scenario to ease any feelings of remorse over the outcome.
"Klaus was spiraling downward. Trust me, I know the signs. He'll hate being locked up, but it will give him a chance to reevaluate his life. Perhaps he'll decide on a course correction when he gets out." Neal grew quiet and looked off in the distance.
Was he picturing Klaus standing beside him? It would be difficult not to think back on the mornings the two of them spent on the roof of the castle. Peter restrained himself from quizzing Neal. It was inevitable the memories were there. Peter's job was not to overreact to them.
"You don't think Klaus will stay in prison for long?" Peter asked instead.
Neal shrugged. "It's hard to keep a leopard confined." He turned to look at Peter and smiled. "But his lion cub is no longer. I'm setting that nickname free."
Peter breathed easier. That was the attitude he'd hoped for. "Should you pick a new nickname?"
He arched a brow. "You don't think I have enough aliases?"
"I was thinking of something more personal."
"You can forget about Baby Bear, too. He's scampered off with Lion Cub. I hope they'll be very happy together."
"How about Bear Cub?"
He heaved a long sigh. "If you're forcing me to pick something I think I'd go with Cheetah."
"Cheetah? No way." Peter regretted he'd raised the topic. "That's much too close to the Leopard."
He frowned. "Not at all. Cheetahs are graceful, and no one can match their speed. Yes, definitely Cheetah."
"It sounds too much like Cheater to me." Peter let his grizzly rumbles come through.
"That works, too. We cheated Ydrus. I've cheated death more than a few times. But in the meantime, here we are on top of the world. There's the dragon. You got the safety ropes." He glanced over at Peter. "And you're beside me. That's all I need. I know you weren't thrilled with me doing this so soon, but until I find out what Klaus hid behind the gargoyle, it's not truly over."
"And that's why I agreed. We both need closure." Clustered at the top of the steeple were steep projections resembling pyramids, each of which was surmounted by a gargoyle. On one of them perched a dragon. Its wings were folded back as it gazed serenely over its kingdom. Neal had liked dragons since he was a youngster. Klaus knew him well, but Peter knew him even better.
Peter had obtained permission from the church. They'd been able to climb inside the spire to the height of the pyramids. Small maintenance ledges were provided with hooks for safety ropes. It was no place for a person afraid of heights, but the risk was minimal. Neal and Peter worked as a team, snapping the grappling hooks in place and testing the rigging. They were in jeans and windbreakers, but wind gusts were minimal. It was a glorious day. Peter had even brought along a camera to record the event.
Neal scaled the pyramid alone. When he stood beside the gargoyle, did he feel dragon blood coursing inside him? Over the past year, he'd wrestled with virtual reality nightmares, old enemies bent on vengeance, vampires, and a twisted Greek goddess. Whatever lay in store for him in the future, he'd now be better able to face it.
"What did you find?" Peter asked when Neal returned to the safety ledge.
Neal showed him a small box. "It had been lashed securely under the base of the sculpture, protected from the elements. It was invisible unless you knew something was there."
"It could be booby-trapped. Do you want to go inside to open it?"
Neal shook his head. "Klaus wouldn't have done that." He used a pocket knife to slit the waterproof wrap and pulled out a small jewelry box in cerulean tooled leather. Peter recorded his actions as he opened the box. Grinning with delight, he held it up for the camera. A small carnelian cat smirked at Peter from atop a gold ring.
"What's the significance?" Peter asked. Beyond the fact that the cat could be a leopard in disguise.
"This is from the Third Intermediate Period. Now that, thanks to Arkham Files, you're an expert on Egyptian archaeology, you undoubtedly recognize the piece." Neal held it up to his eye. "This is a forgery I made for Klaus. He decided to keep it. He said the cat reminded him of a leopard. Chantal said it looked more like a house cat, what he liked to call her. I like to think there was a little of each in it, with more than a dash of cheetah." He looked at Peter. "Do you mind if I keep it?" He held out the ring on his outstretched palm.
"Not all the memories of Chantal and Klaus are bad." Peter folded Neal's fingers over the ring. "Go ahead and hold onto it. You found yourself. Chantal has. Perhaps Klaus will, too."
Neal smiled. "Thanks for understanding." He slipped it inside the case.
Peter took another look at the gargoyle. "I wasn't sure if I'd be able to drag you away from your new friend."
"That dragon's inside me now. I don't need to stay. How about you? How often do you have a chance to visit a dragon?"
Peter looked at him, startled.
"It's a golden opportunity. You shouldn't let Arkham Peter have all the fun."
"You'll record me?" Peter asked, handing him the camera. He could say he was doing it because Neal insisted, but he could feel that dragon blood rising in him, too.
Neal broke into a laugh. "Usually you'd give me grief about photographing you."
"It's a new era for us both."
Notes: Neal and Peter are on top of the world, and those hypotheticals Peter was stewing about seem quite remote. It's time to let them relax and enjoy the moment. Neal provided a few clues about the next Arkham Files story, Time Crystals. It includes Henry's introduction into the world of the Cthulhu Mythos. The party Diana mentioned takes place in Columbia Ghost Story in the Crossed Lines series. The next story in Caffrey Conversation is Cloister of Secrets.
