Chapter 2: An Unsatisfactory Situation

Jones nudged Diana in the breakroom. "Who's the woman with Caffrey?"

Diana paused filling her mug from the coffee pot to look up. Short gray hair and glasses. Frumpy tweeds. "I don't recognize her. Definitely not Alex. I've seen her photos. Perhaps one of his professors?" Diana could picture the woman as a historian. It would be a fitting look for the head librarian in her Arkham Files stories.

Jones chuckled. "Caffrey's one in a million. I saw them kissing by the elevator, and it was no peck on the cheek."

"Shhh," she whispered. "They're coming this way." For a woman with gray hair, her complexion was remarkably radiant. Diana would love to know her secret. It probably involved a banana peel mask and cucumbers.

"Look who's back!" Neal exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sorry for the outfit," a familiar voice said. "I didn't take time to change."

"Sara?" Diana stared at her. "Is that really you?"

"I'm a woman of many faces," she said with a smile. "You should see my Thai-assassin look. Neal didn't recognize me at the lounge last night."

"Ouch," Jones muttered and sent a sympathetic wince in Neal's direction. Was he trying to think of an excuse to bail Neal out?

"It's okay," Neal said. "Sara realized there's no way I'd cheat on my sexy silver fox."

"You better not," Sara warned with a mock stern expression. "This satchel is a lethal weapon."

"What's going on?" Peter asked, walking in. "Quite a transformation for you, Sara."

"Hi, Peter," Sara said. "Neal and I realized we were working different angles of the same case. I hope you don't mind if I join the discussion."

"You're investigating Alex Hunter?" Peter asked.

She nodded. "She's a suspect in a jewelry heist."

"You're welcome at the table. I'll call Travis to join us."

"Give me a minute to take off my wig."

"Please do," Jones said. "You're reminding me too much of my grade school English teacher."

Sara grinned. "Afraid I'll rap your knuckles? I'll be back in a jiff."

As soon as she left the room, Neal was swarmed. "What's the damage assessment?" Peter demanded.

"You need us to back you up?" Jones added. "Just let us know what to say."

"Hey, Sara should know the truth," Diana protested and turned to glare at Neal. "You didn't leave anything out of your report about the previous night, did you?"

Neal sighed. "Give me a little credit, guys. Yes, I like Alex, but do you honestly believe I'd cheat on Sara? You certainly wouldn't write Arkham Neal to do something so despicable and may I remind you he's based on me?" He took a slow breath, apparently to ratchet down his frustration, but it didn't seem to work.

He was probably worried that Sara had doubts as well. Despite herself, Diana felt herself go a little gooey inside. It wasn't often, but every once in a blue moon, Neal reminded her of the way she'd written his fictional counterpart. Caffrey at work was cool and in control, his conman's mask firmly in place to hide any tension. When the mask slipped, he looked surprisingly vulnerable. Sara's unexpected appearance must have rattled him badly.

This wasn't the time to slip out of character. He'd be even more flustered. "Sheesh, calm down," Diana urged, adding an exaggerated eye roll to enhance the effect. "We weren't impugning your character." She zipped a mischievous grin his way. "Well, maybe we were, just a little. But clearly Sara knows you far better than we do, and she didn't doubt you for a second." Diana kept her fingers crossed behind her back that she was correct.

"You skipped lunch for your appointment," Peter said. "I can tell when a guy's running on empty. Isn't there a stash of power bars in the breakroom cabinet next to the fridge?"

"I replenished it yesterday," Jones confirmed, "and that last batch of coffee was surprisingly decent." Diana groaned inwardly. That last statement was true only for a man whose taste buds were already jaded by far too much swill, but she applauded the thought. Neal was no doubt suffering from caffeine deprivation in addition to hunger pangs.

By the time Travis was rounded up and Sara returned, looking more like herself on a truly horrendous wardrobe day, Neal's equilibrium was restored. Jones had supplied the conference room with a tray of power bars for everyone to munch on but made sure the snacks were positioned close to Neal and Sara.

"The jewelry is part of the wife's inheritance from the Rothschild estate," Sara explained. "A diamond and sapphire necklace with matching earrings. Two diamond brooches were stolen as well. The total insured value is over 3 million pounds." She turned to Neal. "Did Alex mention the theft to you?"

Neal shook his head. "Not a word. I wonder if Wilkes managed to seize them. They could be what he's holding over her head. If she doesn't provide him with the painting, he'll keep the jewels."

Peter nodded. "Wilkes could have been following Alex. He'd found out about the heist and somehow managed to confiscate the stolen items. But would that provide sufficient incentive for her to work with him?"

"Good point," Jones agreed. "Alex could have simply walked away."

"Not her," Neal countered. "She wouldn't have given up on what she now considers her property. Alex is probably trying to figure out a way to double-cross Wilkes, retrieve the jewels, and keep the painting." He shrugged. "She knows my feelings about him. I'm sure she believes I'll do whatever it takes to screw him."

"What painting does Wilkes want?" Travis said.

Sara gave Neal a sympathetic look. Diana quickly conjured up possible targets. Based on Sara's expression, it must be an artist with a personal connection to Neal. She didn't think the museum had any Raphaels or Caravaggios, but it was famous for—

"A Vermeer, not the most famous one in the collection—Mistress and Maid—but Girl Interrupted at Her Music." Neal began folding the wrapper from a power bar into precise shapes. "And that's a puzzle. Why that painting?" He looked up at Peter. "The Frick has three Vermeers. The two others are much more valuable. The Girl Interrupted was heavily restored and damaged in the process. At this point, the damage is irreversible."

Travis frowned. "That's not logical. We're lacking a data point."

Peter nodded in agreement. "And the additional complication is that it's a Vermeer. Neal, pull up an image of the painting."

There was no need to explain why the artist raised concerns. For everyone on the team, Vermeer was tied at the hip to the Mansfelds. Klaus had first surfaced when he hired Neal to paint a forgery of a Vermeer painting at the Met. The artist's portrait of an astronomer had been acquired by Klaus's brother Rolf. Both men were now in prison, but they could be in communication through their lawyers with outside interests. Or was this a case that every time Vermeer was mentioned, the assumption was immediately made that Rolf, aka Azathoth, was behind it? Diana groaned to herself. Was she thinking like a writer or a Bureau agent?

Neal hooked his laptop to the projector and displayed the painting on the screen. "It's a snapshot in time of a couple practicing a song. The glass of red wine and the man's pose indicate a romantic interest. The underlying meaning is highlighted by the painting of Cupid on the wall."

Jones squinted at the screen. "That's Cupid? It looks like a muddled mess to me."

Neal winced. "It didn't originally. That section of the painting suffered some of the worst damage."

"Valentine's Day is coming up. Perhaps the buyer intends it to be a present," Travis suggested.

"The girl in the painting is lovely," Sara said. "I can see where someone who doesn't have much of an eye for the damage done to it over the centuries would be attracted to her. Perhaps the buyer is a musician or their love interest is one."

"I'll notify Tricia," Peter said. "Since she's the Mansfeld profiler, she may be able to shed some light on possible motives. Neal, contact Henry. Ask him for his thoughts." Peter turned to Sara. "The jewelry theft may give us the leverage we need to force Alex to cooperate. Neal could tell her that you approached us with proof of her having stolen the jewels. She doesn't know that you don't have any hard evidence. Neal could lay it on thick about how we're hot on her heels with her moves constantly monitored."

"And they will be," Jones added. "I'll work up a schedule now. Sara, is somebody currently tailing her?"

She nodded. "I called the office on my way here. They'll be glad to have reinforcements."

"If Alex thinks she's about to be arrested, she should be willing to go along," Neal agreed, his power bar wrapper now a tiny origami butterfly. "This will also preserve my cover. Alex has as much reason to want to see Wilkes behind bars as the rest of us."

"You can also say that if the jewelry is recovered, she'll be in a better negotiating position, but don't make any promises," Sara warned.

"You're not yet sure she stole the jewels," Travis pointed out.

"Based on her response, I should soon find out," Neal promised. "I haven't given Alex my answer about the Vermeer. Do you want me to play along for now?"

Peter considered for a moment then agreed. "Does Alex expect you to make a forgery?"

Neal gave a knowing half-smile that alerted Diana he was in conman mode. "No, and I don't intend to tell her. Alex realizes I'm a forger but she's unaware that I can fool an appraiser, and that will remain our secret."

#

Sara was not able to stay at White Collar for long. As soon as the team hammered out the details of the op, she left for Sterling-Bosch. It was an unsatisfactory situation. Despite Sara's repeated assurances that she trusted Neal wasn't engaged in anything underhanded, he had a hard time believing it. The rest of the team apparently felt the same way.

To make matters worse, Neal wouldn't be able to see much of Sara for the duration of the con. Alex undoubtedly knew where he lived, so Sara would need to stay in a hotel room. In the past, Neal had always enjoyed working on a joint op with Sara, but this one seemed jinxed from the start.

With no huddle room to use, Neal was forced to go to an unoccupied interrogation room to call Mozzie. The list of supplies needed for the forgery was a long one. Mozzie thrived on acquiring esoteric materials, and his expertise would be put to the test. For this job, Neal would have to forge not only the original seventeenth-century painting but layer upon layer of disastrous restoration efforts. It would be a major challenge, but an even more daunting one could be convincing Mozzie to go along with the second request.

"I won't do it," Mozzie insisted stubbornly. "I've compromised my ethics enough."

"I'm not asking you to betray your fence contacts. Simply find out if Alex had been making the rounds. We need to know if she has the jewels with her."

"And what if she does? Will you steal them from her? Arrest her?"

"I'm trying to help her, Mozz. And me too, for that matter. Surely you understand that. You dislike Wilkes as much as I do."

"But Alex is a friend! She used to be yours as well."

Neal winced. "She still is. But you know what she's like. If she can sell the jewels, she'll likely bolt, leaving us high and dry. I just freed myself from the Mansfelds. I have no desire to stress about Wilkes coming after me." He was already uneasy about what he'd have to do. No need for Mozzie to rub salt into the wound.

Mozzie heaved a sigh sufficiently loud to register his continued displeasure.

Neal played his trump card. "This is not just for me but Sara as well. Would you rather me ask her to plead our case?"

"No, that won't be necessary," he said grumpily. "Give Gypsy my best."

At Mozzie's use of one of Sara's favorite aliases, Neal knew the battle was won. After he rang off, he called the second person on his list.

"Has Splash forgiven me for missing Tuesday Tails?" Neal asked. Normally he joined Henry during the lunch hour on Tuesday for a walk in the park with Henry's puppy.

"She demands a rain check," Henry said. "You'll doubly regret it when you hear my news."

"What's that?" Neal asked, hoping it had nothing to do with the Mansfelds or thief complications.

"June told me that Masterson Music will buy Riffs. They'll keep the present format but have even more open-mic nights. Their goal is to provide a platform for new and struggling musicians." As Henry discussed how June hoped to establish a partnership with Randy Weston's music shop next door and perhaps have his daughter manage the club, Neal found it ironic that Henry was better informed about the project than he was.

"June hasn't said a word to me about it. How did you learn so much about her plans?"

"The Arkham Round Table, where else?" Henry paused and Neal heard the thunk of something hard followed by the scamper of dog claws on the hardwood floor of his office. Neal smiled at Henry's brand of multitasking. "They should call it the Arkham Gossip Club. You wouldn't believe all the subjects that supposedly fit within the umbrella of a writing group. Riffs is a case in point. You remember I'd tossed in a few suggestions for Arkham Henry about improving the music scene in Arkham?"

"Yeah, they were based on what happened in Scorpion Hill."

"June called me this morning to discuss them and mentioned her plans for Riffs." Henry chuckled. "I'd wondered at the time why the group had injected a music thread into the story. I bet June was test-driving the concept."

"While reaping the benefit of discussing it with a group before admitting she has a personal interest. She's a lucky woman." Neal's thoughts returned to Sara. If he'd known Sara was watching him, would he have acted differently? If he had, would it have raised a warning flag with Alex?

"You were vague about why you canceled out on the walk," Henry prompted, rousing him from his thoughts. "You got a new case?"

"It's the main reason I called."

"Let me guess. If you can talk about it, my bet is a couple of brothers are involved." Although Henry kept his tone casual, Neal heard the undertone of seriousness. Normally, Neal wouldn't be able to discuss ongoing cases. He wished their joint work these days didn't always revolve around the Mansfelds.

"Not only them, but someone you displayed an unusual amount of interest in—Alex Hunter." Neal described the events over the past twenty-four hours. "What's your take on the Vermeer?"

"I can see why you're suspicious. There's the added significance that the Arkham Files story Diana is currently posting references Valentine's Day. Is this another example of Rolf flaunting his ability to act even while in prison?"

"Could be," Neal agreed. "The possible connection to Standing Stones was discussed during the briefing."

"But let's step back for a moment. Do you think Wilkes believed Alex would involve you?"

"That's a big unknown. I wouldn't be surprised if Wilkes knows I'm in New York, but he may not realize Alex and I are friends."

"Now he could," Henry pointed out. Neal heard another thunk in the background. "Sara followed Alex. Wilkes could have hired someone to do the same. But even if Wilkes discovers you're helping her, he most likely wouldn't tell his client about you. I bet even if Rolf is involved, he doesn't suspect your connection. He may plan to leave a coded message for Standing Stones once he's acquired the painting."

"To boast that he's still pulling the strings even though he's in prison?"

"Something like that." Henry was silent for a moment. "Alex must have presented a tricky situation for you and Sara."

Neal nodded even though Henry couldn't see him. "I'm sure she had some anxious moments even though she hasn't mentioned any."

"You must have had as well."

No point in confirming the obvious. "At least, now Sara has a reason to visit White Collar. Outside work we shouldn't be seen together."

"Will you be able to work on the forgery during the day?"

"No. I'll need to be at the office during normal business hours just in case Alex is monitoring my movements. Peter wants me to go back to slacker status, though, and leave early."

"Then I may see you at June's. The Arkham Round Table meets tomorrow afternoon. What with the additional complications the Vermeer has provided, it should be quite a meeting."