Chapter 1: Souvenirs
Shepton Mallet, Somerset, England. Thursday, June 1, 2006.
Neal smiled at Sara's enthusiasm as he listened to her discuss reticules with the shopkeeper. She'd spotted a collection of the small Regency purses in the window—ample reason to pay a visit to the antique shop. Sara had been in a Jane Austen mood ever since they toured Bath. The reticules were the height of fashion during Jane's day. If Sara started carrying one, she could launch a new fashion trend.
For the past few days, they'd explored the countryside of South West England. They'd taken a direct flight from Seattle where they'd attended his cousin Angela's wedding. When they arrived at Heathrow, they took off in their rental car for Cornwall.
Sara had studied Arthurian legends in college, and she'd prepared an itinerary of various landmarks associated with the Knights of the Round Table for them to visit. For Neal, it was a chance to explore some of the locations that had inspired Pre-Raphaelite artists. Sara had planned the vacation as a graduation present for him. In mid-May, he'd received his dual master's in art history and visual arts. The diplomas were already framed and hanging in his art niche at White Collar.
They'd left King Arthur behind yesterday and were now working their way back to London. Jane Austen's haunts in Somerset and Hampshire were currently on the agenda. The Regency author had a special significance to both of them going back to the time when they invented the Clueless con to keep their early dates a secret and used aliases based on actors in Jane Austen movies.
Once they returned to London, they had a special evening planned for Mozzie. For the past week, he'd been a consultant on Scima Workshop's Doctor Who set where the episode featuring his script was being filmed. The lid of secrecy concerning the TV series was so tight, he hadn't given any hints even to Neal of what the script was about. Finally, after all these years, Neal had learned what would cause a man who abhorred restrictions of any kind to adhere to the rules.
While Sara chatted about Regency accessories, Neal checked out two oil paintings in a corner. One was a seascape of inferior quality and the other a small painting of a woman that was so grimy it was hard to tell much about her.
Neal crouched in front of her. Surely a woman of mystery—even a woebegone one—deserved a closer look.
The face was blackened with what appeared to be soot, but a small fragment of delicate coral color begged to be examined. The craquelure was intriguing. As Neal scrutinized her, his breath quickened. He picked up the painting to place it under a light. Was he guilty of wishful thinking? Surely this was a fantasy built on quicksand.
"Neal, do you see anything you'd like?" Sara asked. "I've finally made my selection." Her eyes drifted over the display under the glass counter. "Although I may need two."
And I've found the painting of my dreams. "I thought my aunt might like these paintings for her cottage," he said and called the shopkeeper over. "What can you tell me about them?"
The woman gave them a brief look. "You can have both of them for three hundred pounds. We don't normally sell paintings but they were part of an estate sale. They came bundled with a few pieces of Georgian silver I was much more interested in."
Sara approached the paintings to see what had provoked Neal to buy something for Noelle.
"My aunt loves the stories behind objects," Neal said, careful not to lie. He didn't want his words to come back to bite him. "Do you know anything about the former owner?"
She exhaled and thought for a moment. "She was a local woman. Her name was Miranda Tavendish. Last member of her family as I recall. Died in her eighties, poor soul, with no children to comfort her. The bank sold off her property."
"How sad," Sara said, the corners of her mouth drooping in sympathy. "The paintings aren't very good but we should buy them. Perhaps we can invent a romantic story to go with them. Your aunt would like that."
Neal chuckled. "About a sailor lost at sea and his sweetheart?"
The shopkeeper enjoyed the joke. "That's a clever idea! I should encourage other customers to invent tales about the treasures they buy."
Sara smiled at her. "I'm already thinking of one for my reticule."
"Do you mind if I take a few photos?" Neal asked.
Once the purchases were made, Neal placed the paintings on top of brown wrapping paper on the back seat of the car. Sara watched with bemusement the care he took. "I've waited long enough," she said. "Why are you so interested in those paintings?"
"I'm playing a hunch." He hesitated a moment before voicing his hopes out loud. "I think there's a chance the portrait is a Raphael."
She stared at him a moment, stunned into silence. She then sat on the back seat next to his mystery woman. "What do you see that I'm not?"
Neal leaned through the open door of the car to point out the section of her robe that had caught his eye. "This tiny line of gold could be part of a halo. If I'm right this is a Madonna." He shrugged. "If I'm wrong, I'm out a few hundred pounds. I doubt the seascape is anything significant but since it came from the same estate, I decided to purchase it. Possibly it will help on questions of provenance. "
She took a slow breath. "What's your next step?"
"A careful cleaning, but I don't have any supplies." He shrugged. "It's also better if I'm not involved in the appraisal."
Sara eyed him sympathetically. "Because of your reputation?"
He nodded. "That's also why I took the photos. There are a couple of cases where a supposedly lost Raphael was later discovered to be a forgery. I don't want anyone to think that's what I did."
"There aren't very many who know of your expertise."
"True. And I'm not worried about Peter. But Interpol is aware of the forgery I made of the Vermeer painting last summer. They also know about the Da Vinci forgery we used in a sting last December. When Peter and I were here last year, we met with several art officials from the various London museums, including their director of collections at the National Gallery, Olivia Prescott. I plan to give her a call. The National Gallery handled the authentication of a Raphael in the '90s. That work was first considered to be a copy."
"Are they the gold standard for Raphael appraisals?"
"They're certainly one of them, but there were dissenting opinions about the Madonna they authenticated. Even if I'm convinced this is a Raphael, inevitably many will object."
On the way to London, they debated contacting John Hobhouse, the head of the Interpol art crimes task force. Neal hadn't initially planned to call him, and there was no reason to now. Besides, if his hunch was wrong, he'd rather minimize the embarrassment. Just contacting Olivia was enough of a gamble. He'd enjoyed working with her last year. Hopefully, she'd agree to help him.
Neal called her from the road. After teasing him about joining the ranks of would-be fortune seekers who were convinced of treasures in their attics, she was exceptionally cooperative. She offered him the use of their authentication facility where he'd be able to work with one of the members of the conservation team. It was painfully evident that Olivia wouldn't have bet a tuppence on the painting being a lost Raphael. Hearing the skepticism in her voice, Neal's own doubts skyrocketed. But Sara said she could make good use of the time to check in with her office, and they had no plans till they met Mozzie on Saturday afternoon.
#
Despite Neal's efforts to set minimal expectations, his nerves kicked into overdrive when he took his mystery woman to the National Gallery. Olivia had left a pass for him at the entrance along with instructions for him to be escorted to the workrooms in the basement of the museum.
Edi Rotich, the technician assigned to assist him, gave him the expected joshing but was also intrigued enough to stay around while Neal performed the initial cleaning. Edi was from Kenya and seemed genuinely pleased when Neal addressed him in Swahili. He'd learned the language back in the days when he'd been working for Adler. A friend of Mozzie's who was a gemstone smuggler had taught him the basics.
Neal believed that once the grime was removed, he'd likely be able to tell if there was any chance he'd been correct. And that's where he got his next big break. The surface grime was mainly simple household dirt that could be easily removed with an emulsion cleaner. As Neal and Edi worked on it, other techs began to check on their progress. Slowly Neal's mystery woman was revealing herself to be a Madonna, and a beautiful one at that. But was she a Raphael?
When Neal heard footsteps behind him, he assumed it was another tech. Then he heard Olivia say, "So this is what's causing the commotion. I should have known."
He spun around to see not only her but John Hobhouse as well. "I came here to meet with Olivia on a case," John explained. "Olivia mentioned you were in the workrooms. Do your holidays normally involve hunting for lost masterpieces?"
"They could in the future," Neal acknowledged, his attempt at appearing nonchalant probably fooling no one. "After this experience, I may have caught the bug." He stepped aside so they could view the painting.
The smile from Olivia's face faded as she bent over it. She held the scarf wrapped around her neck with one hand to keep it from brushing the surface of the painting.
"The color of the gown is what caught my eye," Neal said. "Raphael managed to instill a delicate blush to coral that to my knowledge is unique."
"When we started, there were only a couple of small patches that showed the true colors," Edi added, gesturing to the pile of cloths they'd used to wipe the surface.
John slowly shook his head. "You must have the luck of the Irish, Neal. The work is certainly painted in the style of Raphael. Olivia, you may want to authorize a thorough appraisal."
"My thoughts exactly." She turned to Neal. "With your approval, of course."
Neal hesitated. The authentication cost could be staggering. "How much will this set me back?"
"We may be able to work out an exchange," she said cryptically. "I'll explain in my office if you can tear yourself away."
"Go ahead," Edi urged. "This round of cleaning's almost done. I'll make sure she doesn't wander off."
"I'm here in my official capacity," John said once they were behind closed doors. "One of the paintings from an upcoming exhibit was stolen last night. We haven't released the information to the media yet and very few even among the museum personnel know about it."
"Is it from the Turner exhibition?" Neal asked. "I noticed the banners at the front entrance."
Olivia nodded. "It's due to open next month. Several of the paintings are on loan from the Tate, and it's one of those works which was taken—an unfinished piece called Sunrise with Sea Monsters."
At Neal's choked-off exclamation, John winced sympathetically. "I told Olivia about the theft of the Carta Marina last April from Harvard. I suggested we consult with you and Peter, and that's when she told me you were currently downstairs in their workshop. The crime has many of the hallmarks of Rolf Mansfeld, and the theme of the painting appears to be tailor-made for one of his taunts."
"Mansfeld and his brother are still in prison I assume?" Olivia asked, directing her gaze at Neal.
"I'm sure I would have been notified if they weren't," he assured her. "Our team has been working on the theory that Rolf has an unknown partner, but hard evidence is still scant. A book on ancient sea maps was found in Ydrus headquarters in Hungary. The same book was found in the home of a member of the Pod, a criminal group who focuses on video game ransomware."
"Is there anything besides the book that ties the Pod to the theft of the Carta Marina?" Olivia asked.
"Only circumstantial bits," Neal admitted. "From the onset of our involvement with Rolf, he's seemingly delighted in goading us. His egotism has been his weak spot. It's enabled us to get under his skin, provoking him to be reckless in his desire for recognition. In Rolf's original museum malware, he buried an image of a symbol used by the horror writer H.P. Lovecraft. In the malware used at Harvard, a symbol of an octopus was rendered in ASCII. That could be a link to the Pod, which several of us believe is short for cephalopod. Was malware involved in this crime?"
"Quite possibly," she acknowledged. "The painting was being stored off-site while the exhibition hall was being readied. Somehow the security sensors were disabled and the anti-malware circumvented."
"Scotland Yard's tech team is working on it now," John said. "They'll be in contact with White Collar. The anti-malware used by the National Gallery is the one developed by Root32."
The program had been written by Neal's friend Aidan. He'd worked with White Collar's tech expert Travis Miller on it, and the software had been successfully deployed by museums throughout the world. To Neal's knowledge, this was the first time it had failed. "This raises an even thornier issue. Rolf has no access to computers. How could he rewrite code? Some on our team have raised the possibility that the criminal mastermind of the malware isn't Rolf, but his partner. This case could help confirm the theory."
"How long will you be in London?" John asked.
"I'm currently scheduled to return to New York on Sunday," Neal said.
"I'd like you to stay on, if possible. Your expertise on the Mansfelds could prove invaluable."
Olivia smiled. "That also means you'll be able to check in on your mystery Madonna. How could you refuse?"
Not to mention the opportunity to spend more time with Sara. No arm-twisting would be needed on his part, but would Peter sanction it?
Before leaving Olivia's office, John texted Peter, scheduling a conference call in an hour. He wanted Neal present for the call so Neal left the Madonna in Edi's capable hands.
John's office was in New Scotland Yard, a short distance away. In addition to his work on the Interpol task force, John led the U.K.'s Art and Antiques Unit, the equivalent of D.C. Art Crimes at the Bureau.
Neal hadn't contacted Peter yet about his painting. John listened with an amused expression as he described the discovery. Realistically, at best the painting would be declared an unknown work from the period of Raphael or perhaps a painting from an assistant. But Neal preferred to dream big until circumstances forced a change of plan.
It was also a much more pleasant subject to discuss than the Turner, a point John immediately seized on. "This theft has all the hallmarks of containing a personal message to White Collar from Rolf," he said bluntly. "The work is incomplete. It's valued at much less than the other paintings which were stored in the warehouse. Why else was it the only one stolen?"
"It reminds me of the Vermeer that was targeted in New York in February," Peter agreed. "That also was a lesser work by an old master."
"If our assumption is true that Rolf had commissioned Wilkes to accomplish the theft," Neal said, "the message was never sent since that painting wasn't stolen. Rolf most likely never found out the details about it."
"In that case, it's even easier to believe that he was involved," John said. "His unknown associate could have hired Wilkes to commit the crime. The art was in New York where Rolf knew you'd be called upon to investigate." John turned to Neal. "Could he have heard about your trip to England?"
"It's possible his agents, if he still has any, found my plane reservations," Neal said, "but I hadn't planned to spend much time in London, and since I'm staying with Sara, there's no hotel reservation in my name."
"I doubt there's a personal message to Neal in connection with his trip," Peter agreed. "I'm much more inclined to view this as a boast of Rolf's global reach. He's returning to familiar territory. For years he'd worked at the Scima campus outside London under an assumed identity."
"But I wouldn't discount the possibility of a threat," John argued. "The combination of water and sea monsters in the Turner painting could be intended to evoke the attempt on Peter's life last year."
Last May, Rolf had taken advantage of sets at Scima to place an unconscious Peter inside the TARDIS at the bottom of a large underwater soundstage. When Neal found him, a mask of an Ood, a tentacle-mouthed alien created for Doctor Who, had been slipped over Peter's head.
"And not only that incident, but the death of the agent in Prague in early 2005," Peter pointed out. "The victim had suffocated to death in a swimming pool with a latex octopus glued onto his face."
"Here's another freakish coincidence," Neal said. "The second season of Doctor Who is currently being broadcast in the U.K. Tomorrow night, the first episode featuring the Ood will be shown. The episode is called 'The Impossible Planet.' Sara and I were planning to watch it."
"One coincidence I might take at face value," Peter grumbled, "but not multiple ones."
"I suppose it's theoretically possible that Rolf intended to suggest that this crime was also impossible," John mused. "He knew that all the evidence would point to him, but since he's sitting in prison, he couldn't have committed it. Still tying the theft to the episode seems like quite a stretch."
"The ties to Lovecraft are too strong to be ignored," Peter argued. "The Ood resemble Cthulhu, Lovecraft's chief deity. The tentacles on their mouths could also reference the zoog, a tentacle-snouted rodent invented by Lovecraft and used in Arkham Files."
"I wonder who invented the name Ood," Neal mused. "Were they familiar with zoogs?"
"I'll find out," John promised, jotting a note on a pad of paper.
Agents continued to comb the warehouse, hoping to find hard evidence. But until then, they could only speculate. On the positive side, Peter had agreed for Neal to stay on for a few extra days. Scotland Yard, the location of John's office, was close to the Portrait Gallery. While Sara was at work, Neal would alternate between the two locations.
Neal wouldn't have placed high odds on being able to provide much help to the investigation. But that situation changed an hour later. A business card was found near the crate where the Turner had been stored. The card was printed with an image of the TARDIS and the words "Property of the Doctor."
#
"Do you feel like we're caught up in a déjà vu situation?" Peter asked Tricia. After Neal's call, he'd rounded up Jones, Diana, Travis, and Tricia Wiese, their Mansfeld profiler, for a briefing.
Peter's question wasn't an attempt at humor and Tricia treated it equally seriously. "We discovered that Rolf, disguised as Chapman, had deliberately lured you onto the Doctor Who set. He had an associate make a painting resembling one Neal had painted earlier in the year for a contest at a sci-fi convention. Rolf was a judge at the event. He spoke with both Neal and you. The elaborate measures he took to draw you to the Scima campus indicate the very long timelines he operates on. In comparison, this linkage was much more easily obtained, but it also could have been planned months in advance—even before Rolf was captured in Hungary. A simple code word spoken to his lawyer could have set the scheme into motion."
Diana exhaled impatiently, her eyes flashing fire. "Rolf is no better than a five-year-old showoff. What does he possibly hope to gain by the display? Sure, the Turner might bring in a couple of million on the black market, but is he simply doing this to thumb his nose at us? All it will get him is solitary confinement."
"That's certainly how it appears on the surface," Tricia agreed calmly, "but look at it from a different angle. We were never able to prosecute Rolf for Peter's abduction in England because the DNA evidence wasn't allowed."
"And not only the abduction," Jones pointed out. "Rolf was never accused of the murder of the real Alistair Chapman or for identity theft. The records from the plastic surgeon weren't admissible since they'd been obtained"—he hesitated for a moment, appearing to search for an appropriate term—"in an irregular manner."
Travis took a slow breath but kept quiet. Only his tight lips indicated his unease. Peter sympathized with him. Travis and Neal's friend Aidan had succeeded in hacking into the surgeon's records when local authorities denied access. Their efforts had enabled them to establish that Rolf had faked his death and was impersonating Chapman but he wasn't able to be tried for the crimes since the evidence had been illegally obtained.
"Rolf insisted he'd been framed," Tricia said, "and his lawyer was able to make a convincing argument. Since Rolf hadn't received financial compensation, the act of faking his death wasn't considered a crime."
Rolf's lawyers argued that the stress of his research had led their client to suffer from bipolar disorder, and the expert witness testimony provided by psychologists supported the claim. The defense team made a compelling case with the result that the final sentence was lighter than the prosecution had sought.
"It's not just the Scima incident," Peter said. "None of the stolen paintings could be tied directly to Rolf. His lawyers argued that Anya was the mastermind and that she'd taken advantage of his psychosis. And that brings us to this latest incident. Look at it from the viewpoint of someone who doesn't know Rolf as we do. This crime has all the hallmarks of the criminal we called Azathoth. The personal taunts, the connection to horror and Lovecraft. The sea monsters in Turner's painting could be a reference to Cthulhu."
"Even the Doctor Who allusions could reference Lovecraft," Travis said, steepling his fingers in front of his face. "The Ood look similar to Lovecraft's drawing of Cthulhu."
"You realize where this is leading," Peter said, cutting to the chase. "Rolf isn't Azathoth, after all. That hypothetical observer could claim we got the wrong guy and the real Azathoth is still on the loose."
Diana sagged into the chair, her frustration mirrored in the expressions of the others.
"Personally, I'm convinced we were right," Tricia said. "Rolf is Azathoth, but we already know the man is a genius at psychological manipulation. It's not unreasonable to believe that Rolf created himself an escape hatch, perhaps as far back as a year ago. He designed the strategy, left it with his silent partner, the person we're calling Cthulhu, with instructions on when to set it in motion."
Jones exhaled. "So now Rolf's lawyers can use this new crime as evidence of a frame."
Diana rolled her eyes. "Rolf, the innocent victim?"
"It could get even worse," Tricia warned. "What if Rolf's lawyers argue that the real Azathoth manipulated Rolf to kidnap Neal? It's indisputable that Anya relied upon Doctor Penfold. Did the doctor use a procedure on Rolf to make him commit the crimes? The defense could call for a new trial."
"And this latest crime will only bolster their argument," Peter agreed reluctantly. "Hell, it even makes me think about reviewing the case. Penfold might be able to shed some light on what really happened . . . if we could find him."
Penfold had only served a couple of months of prison. At his trial in Hungary, his lawyers were able to convince the jury that he was engaged in legitimate medical research and had no ties to the weapons trade and art crimes Anya's organization engaged in. As a result, Penfold was placed in a minimum-security facility. He escaped two months ago.
Was the present crime simply an effort to exonerate Rolf? How much risk was Neal in by being in London? He was bound to want to visit the Doctor Who set. If an attempt was made on his life, it could be used as further evidence that the criminal dubbed Azathoth wasn't Rolf. Neal already knew to be careful. Should Peter order him home? If he did, would Neal find a sneaky way to stay in London?
#
"Are you sure John doesn't need a second undercover agent?" Sara asked, restraining her frustrated sigh to a tiny puff. "Doesn't he realize we're a team? The Doctor needs Rose with him." She appreciated that Neal called her at work to relay the news. By the time they saw each other, perhaps she could think of a way to make her presence vital.
"I reminded John of how well we'd worked together. He promised to keep it in mind."
Sara slouched back into her desk chair. She should be content that Neal able to prolong his stay in London. It didn't sound like she'd be seeing much of him, though. Last year, Neal's resemblance to David Tennant had allowed him to go undercover as a stunt double on the set. John could want to take advantage of the resemblance again. The card was such a tenuous clue, it was difficult to believe there could be any tie to Doctor Who. But the coincidence of the timing of the Ood episode with the theft was too startling to be ignored.
Once the security program was analyzed, they'd be in better shape to determine if it had the hallmarks of Rolf and his phantom partner Cthulhu or if the theft had been masterminded by some rabid fan as a stunt.
Normally, she wouldn't be privy to details of the case, but when there was a possibility of Mansfeld involvement, the rule book was tossed out. She hadn't heard of a Turner painting containing sea monsters but had looked it up on the Internet. The work was in shades of yellow and gray and at first glance appeared to be a hazy seascape with no recognizable features. Some pink and red turbulent swirls were evocative of something, but what? Fish, sea monsters, a ship? The title had been bestowed upon the work after Turner's death, and he'd left no clues about his vision. Neal preferred the sea monster hypothesis because another Turner work, The Slave Ship, also had sea monsters, and they were depicted somewhat similarly but weren't as amorphous.
"The Slave Ship is at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston," Neal added. "Peter said he'd alert them that an attempt may be made on it. They'll also keep an eye out for any TARDIS business cards."
"What does John think of the possibility that the card is a reference to the cards Klaus left behind after a theft?"
"It's yet another bit of circumstantial evidence," he agreed. "John's meeting with the producers tomorrow, and I plan to nose around Scima on Monday. The theft will continue to be kept confidential for at least a week. If Rolf is hoping for publicity, he won't get any."
"Does John know about Mozzie?"
Neal hesitated for a moment before answering. "I decided not to mention him. The only time John has seen him was in Hungary when Mozzie was using a different alias. I want to ask Mozzie about it, though. He may have noticed something on the set, but I imagine he'd prefer to stay far away from any involvement with Scotland Yard."
Sara agreed. Most likely, Mozzie wouldn't be able to contribute much, and she didn't want to do anything that would take away from his triumphant week on the Doctor Who set. By now Mozzie would be thoroughly immersed in his scriptwriter persona, Walter Ellis. She'd been touched beyond words when he asked if he could use her surname. Together they'd worked up a biography for her new relative.
"We'll have plenty of time to discuss it with Mozzie when he arrives tomorrow afternoon," Neal said.
"Where does he think we're staying?"
"I told him we were planning to watch 'The Impossible Planet' at your place and then would play Clue. I offered him the use of your couch and he accepted it with alacrity."
Sara's mood lifted. Little did Mozzie suspect what was in store for him.
Notes: A lost Raphael painting which was discovered in Scotland in 2016 was the inspiration for this story. "The Impossible Planet," one of my favorite Doctor Who episodes, was televised in the UK on June 3, 2006. I was delighted I could use the same date in my story. The account of Peter's abduction on the Doctor Who set is in Echoes of a Violin.
Visuals and Music: The Lost at Sea board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website
Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation
Twitter: silbrith
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.
