Chapter 3: Exposed

"Three days aren't enough time," Diana argued. "Boss, are you sure Hobhouse won't agree to an extension?"

"We're lucky to have this much," Peter replied. "It was only with the greatest reluctance that John agreed to not immediately process Mozzie." That Sunday morning conversation still rang uncomfortably in Peter's ears. Having to defend someone who lived off forged identities and performed illegal jobs for Gordon Taylor and no telling how many other criminals brought Peter smack up to the blurred lines his team had been straddling for the past two-and-a-half years. In their eyes, Mozzie's assistance was worth it, but John could easily disagree.

Peter had spoken with Tricia after the phone call from London and asked her to attend the morning briefing along with Jones, Travis, and Diana. Hughes had sanctioned their devoting resources on the case up to a certain point. That three-day deadline wasn't only hanging over Mozzie's head.

"Doesn't he realize what an asset Mozzie has been to the Mansfeld cases?" Diana persisted.

"You're used to thinking in the point of view of different characters," Tricia reminded her. "Consider how John could regard Mozzie's actions over the past few years. That's what I did yesterday, and my conclusion was that John could make a compelling case for Mozzie being Azathoth's secret partner."

Diana's mouth dropped, stunned into silence, and she wasn't alone. Tricia's words shocked everyone.

"When Tricia called me to explain her hypothesis, my reaction was the same," Peter said. "But upon reviewing the timeline, I realized how credible it appeared."

"Let me be clear," Tricia added. "This is not what I believe, but there's an excellent chance this is what Rolf wants us to think. Remember, he's continuing to play the innocent victim. With Mozzie, he may believe he's found the perfect scapegoat."

"Neal first met Mozzie in 2003," Peter said. He'd already outlined Rolf's defense strategy in his mind, and the team needed to understand what they were up against. "That was in New York, shortly after Neal quit Klaus's crew. A coincidence that their paths crossed? What if Klaus had hired Mozzie to be a silent partner and ordered him to seek Neal out?"

"And Rolf wasn't even involved?" Travis asked incredulously.

"In his desire to be released from prison, Rolf wouldn't hesitate to cast doubts on his brother," Tricia said. "Building up a case against Mozzie may be enough to secure a new trial. Whether or not there's enough evidence to convict is irrelevant at this point."

"So what you're saying is that Mozzie has been a mole all this time?" Jones said, appearing to give the nightmare scenario careful consideration. His objectivity was welcome.

Peter nodded. "Mozzie was the one who solved the Galileo puzzle that provided the first clues about our adversary. It was so abstruse I didn't think anyone could unravel it. Mozzie could because he had insider knowledge. He could have crafted the puzzle himself."

"But there's a flaw in the argument," Travis objected. "Klaus doesn't have computer expertise, and Mozzie's programming skills aren't up to the level of sophistication that was used in the malware."

"True," Peter said, "but Jacek Kolar has the ability. When Neal met him and his wife Marta, they worked for Klaus. We assumed later they also worked for Rolf, but there's only circumstantial evidence to link them."

Jones nodded slowly. "Mozzie could have hired them instead, letting Klaus be his frontman."

"Mozzie could have devised the connection to Lovecraft," Diana mused, a frown on her face. "He was the one who identified the symbol hidden in the security system malware as Lovecraft's glowing branch. Mozzie named the mastermind Azathoth, but that could have been a reference to himself. He was also the one who first suggested Azathoth had a secret partner."

"And dubbed him Cthulhu," Tricia said. "We all know how brilliant Mozzie is. Wouldn't it be just like him to boast of his expertise by splitting himself in two and inventing a fictitious partner?"

Jones grimaced. "Mozzie is both Azathoth and Cthulhu? I hate to admit it, but the theory has strong circumstantial evidence to back it up. That would explain why Mozzie was able to decipher the coded messages Diana was receiving to her stories."

Peter nodded. "And why the messages continue even though Rolf sits in a cell with no computer access. Mozzie also directed our attention to the book of ancient sea maps in Rolf's library in Hungary. Is it any wonder John is suspicious?"

Diana scowled. "But if Mozzie is the silent partner, Rolf wouldn't want to reveal him."

"He might if he's trying to make Mozzie and Klaus scapegoats," Tricia argued. "Rolf's ego is such that he could believe both are easily replaced. Once Rolf secures his freedom, he could collect a new crew. Another possibility is that Rolf doesn't believe Mozzie will be convicted."

"Or he knows Mozzie will escape at the last minute," Diana said gloomily. "He'll have to invent a new identity, but for him, that's a trivial matter."

Jones swiped a hand over his chin. "Mozzie could have planned the London incident from the start. He stole the Turner painting and staged the video, all the while playing the innocent card. He conned us all. At the last minute, he could drop into some rabbit hole and disappear all the while working with Rolf."

"But we know this isn't true," Travis said, setting his jaw into a hard line. "And we'll prove it. You said Neal is spending day and night reviewing surveillance camera footage at Scima Workshop. Given the number of cameras and the size of the campus, it's a monumental task. Jones and I are using Win-Win's facial recognition program to improve the odds."

"We've been able to make a surprisingly large number of matches, correlating faces to the Scima database of employees and passport records," Jones said. "We're also using filters to narrow the list of possibilities."

"Which filters are you using?" Tricia asked.

"For occupations, we selected any related to computers or gaming," Travis said. "We also targeted anyone associated with Columbia, Harvard, MIT, or the University of Bremen where Rolf taught."

Would the approach work? They had little else to go on. Yesterday, John had mandated a search of the desk Mozzie used at Scima. Stuck in a back drawer was a TARDIS business card identical to the one left behind at the warehouse where the painting had been stolen. It was the first mistake the criminal had made. In the desire to frame Mozzie, they'd shown that they were able to access the Doctor Who production offices. John had agreed to let White Collar review copies of the video feeds.

The other possibility was that the card had been a mistake, not by Azathoth but by Mozzie, and he actually was the silent partner and perhaps Azathoth himself. But Peter's gut told him Mozzie was being framed even as he tried to keep an open mind.

#

Sara watched Neal as he gazed moodily at the Thames. The day had been overcast and now a light mist hung in the twilight sky. She hoped the moisture would refresh their spirits. They were both exhausted.

Ever since Mozzie had been placed in a safe house, both of them had spent every available moment holed up in John's office, conducting an as yet fruitless review of video feeds. Since John had agreed to delay the release of the incriminatory footage of Mozzie, he was unable to bring in his team to investigate. The agents who had recovered the painting at the storage facility were told that it was part of an undercover Interpol operation but otherwise left in the dark. Sara felt for John and the difficult situation he'd been placed in.

Under normal circumstances, John relied on the Command to provide extra personnel as needed. In this instance, he'd become an unofficial member of White Collar. Travis and Jones were in charge of processing the security camera feeds in New York, while Neal and Sara were scouring copies for anyone or anything that would point to the perpetrator.

Neal had his elbows propped up on the railing and was resting his chin on his hands. Sara could take a break during the day when she needed to return to Sterling-Bosch, but there was no respite for Neal. Just a few days ago, she'd thought Neal would be consumed by researching his mystery painting. Now it had taken a backseat to the crisis unfolding around Mozzie.

The discussion of Mozzie being Azathoth's silent partner had been a bitter pill for Neal to swallow. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate White Collar standing by his friend, but rather the fact that Azathoth had targeted someone so close to Neal. The questions swirling around Klaus were especially troubling. Doubts had crept into her mind as well. How large a role was Neal's former mentor still playing? In Hungary and afterward, he'd appeared to be genuinely remorseful for his actions toward Neal. Had that been a con?

Sara slanted a glance at Neal. Drops of rain clung to his eyelashes, reminding her of tears. She'd never seen him look so discouraged. She slipped an arm around her waist. "You'll let me know if you see any tentacles?"

He flinched as if he'd been struck. "What . . .?" His words trailed off as he brushed his hair back off his forehead.

"I'm sorry, it was a poor attempt at a joke." Sara tried not to overreact but was appalled at his reaction. "You're not seeing any, are you?"

He took a breath. "Lately it seems that wherever I look they're present. Rolf, Klaus . . . " He gave a bitter chuckle. "That wood sculpture of the octopus in the window of the art gallery on the way here, was it an omen?"

"Absolutely not, and we really should stop maligning octopuses," she declared, determined to lift his spirits. "They're one of my favorite animals."

"You sound like Diana. She even got an octopus tattoo last month. Please don't tell me you want to get one too."

"Gee and I had my heart set on it," she teased. "I warn you that this promise will cost you. We'll need to take a vacation somewhere where we can scuba dive and see them in their natural habitat. Actually, I'd be content if there were seahorses. They rate even higher with me than octopuses."

"Seahorses, it is! Last summer we went scuba diving near Cape May. I haven't forgotten your expertise. That was the last chance I had to practice. And I promise not to groan if you spot any of your tentacle-waving friends."

Was there a hidden plea in those words? Sara knew Neal hadn't been sleeping well, and it wasn't all because of Mozzie. "Sunday morning you'd mentioned something about having nightmares about sea monsters. Are you still having them?"

He took a breath and nodded. "I suppose it's inevitable. Turner's painting, the Ood masks, Mozzie's dilemma."

"The Godzilla movies we watched didn't help," she said remorsefully.

He clasped her hand. "Don't blame Godzilla. It's not his fault." He exhaled. "You should know, I've been troubled by them for a while."

"For how long?" she asked, her concern ratcheting up.

He shrugged. "Off and on for several months. Henry thinks it's because I'm worried about what Rolf could do to those I care about." He looked over at her and gave a rueful smile. "I've been prone to nightmares since I was a child. Noelle believes they're a lingering effect from Vance. You sure you still want to sleep with me?"

"More than ever," she declared. "I'll help keep those monsters at bay. Besides, it's understandable you've been having issues. Vance's ghost probably awakened old demons. What with your mom's passing and your dad's flight from WITSEC, you've had a lot to contend with."

"You had to cope with learning the truth about your sister," he countered.

"That was a different situation," she insisted. "I already knew in my heart she wasn't alive. You don't have any doubts about Mozzie, do you?" It was something they hadn't discussed, but maybe she'd been wrong in not raising the question. Peter's team was being forced to grapple with the possibility.

"That he's been conning me for the past three years?" Neal smiled and shook his head. "Mozzie and I have gone through too much together. Klaus, on the other hand . . ." He winced. "That's a harder question. When Tricia encouraged me to write to him, I was happy to go along, but I've kept my guard up. I want to believe he's being genuine." He winced. "I'd like to think I'm not that bad a judge of character."

"And you're not. Klaus could be a victim as much as you. Who knows? Perhaps Rolf had his mad scientist Penfold brainwash Klaus long before he tried it on you."

"You're not alone in the theory. Tricia also raised the possibility. If Penfold can ever be captured, maybe we'll get a chance to ask him." He clasped her hand. "And you'll be happy to know I have a strategy for befriending those denizens of the deep. At the risk of exposing myself to justifiable ridicule, I'll let you in on a secret."

"Is it something to do with Baby Bear?" Neal had told her about the nickname his grandmother had bestowed upon him as a baby, and the good-natured teasing he'd received about it.

He chuckled. "In a way. I've been turning sea monsters into lovable cartoon characters. Since Diana is so fixated on octopuses, I picture her as Pearl, the adorable pink octopus in the movie Finding Nemo." He gave her a mischievous smile. "There's a seahorse in the movie called Sheldon. Any takers?"

"Yes, please!" she said, happy to see Neal's spirits lifting. "I'd love a seahorse avatar. Let's call her Shellie."

"Shellie . . ." he eyed her appraisingly. "It suits you. The name reminds me of filly."

"Careful or I may start to whinny. You know how fond I am of horses. How about you? You need to be in the ocean frolicking with Diana and me."

He gave a slow sigh but there was a healthy glint in his eyes. "Last summer in California, I watched the movie Finding Nemo with Peter and El. Peter told me later that he identified with Marlin the clownfish. I guess that makes me Nemo."

As Sara laughed with him over being a clownfish, she didn't bring up the circumstances. Elizabeth told her how they watched the movie shortly after Neal's rescue. She was pleased to see that Neal could joke about it. That had to be a healthy sign.

"No more talk of sea monsters," Neal said firmly. He waved his hand toward the river. "I've longed to stroll along the Thames with you. Now's our chance. We'll need to return to Scotland Yard soon. Let's enjoy the moment."

They turned and started walking along the promenade. "Perhaps next year you'll paint the Thames to add to your rivers collection," she suggested.

"I'm more interested in turning that sketch I'd made of you along the valley stream in Cornwall into a painting. The ruins of Tintagel Castle will be in the distance. You are my Fae princess."

"And you my noble knight. Together we'll slay whatever dares confront us."

He drew her close, and her lips melted into his. Neal had trusted her with his fears, and she was determined to help him overcome them.

#

"I'm sorry, Peter, but I'm unable to grant an extension." John's voice on the phone sounded genuinely regretful. "I justified our investigation to the Scima producers as a possible incident connected to Rolf Mansfeld. In light of their history with the criminal, they've bent over backward to accommodate our wishes, but my superiors are demanding I supply the evidence. I've been given a deadline of eleven o'clock tomorrow morning. If nothing else has turned up by then, I'll have to tell them about Mozzie and the painting."

Peter understood all too well the difficulty of John's situation. The only new evidence they'd unearthed wasn't helpful to Mozzie's case. Travis had discovered the ASCII-code signature of an octopus in the malware that had infected the Tate's security software at the off-site warehouse. The signature had previously been found in malware used to steal a map of sea monsters at Harvard and also in ransomware associated with the Pod, a group of criminal hackers.

The Pod had first surfaced early in the year. The programming style was similar to what had been used in museum security malware. They'd originally believed Rolf had written the malware but there was no conclusive proof. Now other candidates were being floated around, including Jacek Kolar and Cthulhu—Rolf's silent partner. John had insisted Mozzie remain a candidate, pointing out that he'd first alerted them about the Pod. Peter could tell that John was growing increasingly concerned that Mozzie had been playing them all.

"I realize your team continues to be convinced of the man's innocence," John said. "If they're correct, Mozzie will be safer when he's held in a secure facility."

Peter didn't comment. He hadn't mentioned the concerns Neal had voiced privately to him that Mozzie would bolt rather than be entered into the system. Neal denied any knowledge of how Mozzie would manage to elude his guards, but Peter didn't doubt the shadow-lurker might somehow find a way. Before he could reply, he heard the faint sound of a knock coming through the phone.

"Neal's arrived," John explained. "I'd like him to hear this too."

Peter heard footsteps, the sound of the door opening, and then Neal's excited voice.

"Hold that thought," John ordered. "I have Peter on the line. I'll switch to speaker." The faint echo confirmed the switch. "Peter had called to discuss the possibility of an extension, and I repeated to him what I'd told you. Without new evidence, it's impossible."

"And I may have it!" Neal's voice sounded electrified. Peter hoped whatever he'd found merited the enthusiasm. The last time Peter had checked in with him, the strain of the long hours was clearly taking a toll. Neal had driven himself to exhaustion before, but he was still able to function. Hopefully, this time he wasn't delusional.

"The key was Travis's filter for faces with a connection to MIT," Neal explained. "Several faces were tagged, and one of them looked vaguely familiar. I ran a search on him and discovered I'd met him. His name is Victor Liu. He graduated from MIT last month with a B.S. in computer science."

"Where did you meet him?" John asked.

"When we were in Cambridge—that's Cambridge, Massachusetts, not England—in March. At the time, MIT was sponsoring an origami exhibition, and Victor had designed an intricate kraken."

Peter groaned to himself. Surely that wasn't the only evidence Neal had to offer.

"I know what you're thinking," Neal added as if reading Peter's mind, "but hear me out. We know the Pod was involved in the theft of the sea map. They were also familiar with MIT. We also verified that Rolf had been a guest lecturer at MIT eight years ago. What if the Pod is connected in some way to MIT?"

"What's Liu doing at Scima?" Peter asked, not ready to answer Neal's question.

"He's working as an intern this summer in the CGI department. A note had been placed in his file that he'd been selected over another candidate with more experience. One of the staff members supervising the program had registered a protest but had been informed that the decision had been made by top management. Doesn't that sound suspicious? Like perhaps a hacked email allowed Victor to get the job?"

There was silence for a moment. Peter could picture Neal's pleading eyes.

John's exhale was loud on the phone. "At the minimum, this requires further research. It shouldn't be difficult to discover if the decision was genuine."

"The Pod could be expanding into the film industry," Neal said. "Mozzie said the group resembled a cephalopod with many tentacles. At the time, he suspected Pod referred to the number of employees. But the term could also be a reference to multiple strategies. We already know of at least two—video gaming and fine art."

"Cyberattacks are a growing concern among the film industry in the States," Peter said.

"And in England as well," John acknowledged. "By referencing a possible attack on one of England's leading film studios, I should be able to buy at least a couple of extra days."

"And that frees me up to go to Scima," Neal said.

"No, it doesn't," Peter retorted, letting his voice deepen into a growl. "You're not the only one who can read minds. You want to go in undercover and make contact with the suspect."

"Exactly!" Neal said triumphantly. "I've hung around Aidan and Richard enough to be able to talk their lingo. John, those are two friends from grad school. Both worked at Scima as interns. I faked being a video-game concept artist during a sting a few months ago. If you simply swoop in and question Victor, it may be fruitless. Without more evidence, he's not going to cough up his membership in the Pod. But he may respond to me, a hungry-for-money intern."

"You can't go in as yourself," John warned. "You remember seeing him. He could as well. And if he is indeed a member of the Pod, he may already know who you work for."

"Not a problem," Neal said quickly. "I brought a disguise with me. It makes me look like a blond surfer-dude. Sara and I traveled directly to England from my cousin's wedding. I'd used the disguise at one of the parties."

At Angela's request, Neal and Sara had dressed as their alter-egos, Matthew and Alicia. They'd used the wigs to conceal their dates last fall. It was as if Neal knew he might need to go undercover, or maybe he always traveled with a disguise on hand. If he hadn't before, he certainly would now.

Neal was charging full steam ahead, adlibbing a fake UCLA backstory for John's benefit. It was up to Peter to slam the brakes on. "You can't go in," he ordered bluntly.

"Why not?" Neal asked, frustration dripping off the words.

"It's too dangerous. This could be a trap, just like last year when I was the target. There's no way I'll let you go in solo to face a suspected member of the Pod."

"Neal is the best candidate for the role to approach Victor," John countered. "I could arrange for a plainclothes detective to monitor his movements, but it will take a couple of days to get clearance."

"By the time John secures approval, it may be too late," Neal argued. "I know someone who's available now and is already familiar with the case."

Peter rolled his eyes, wishing Neal could see it. "Sara?"

"Who else? She can use her Alicia disguise."

Should he approve the request? Sara was a pro, and, perhaps even more helpful, she was in love with Neal. She'd quickly clamp down on any risky maneuver. Neal might also be more likely to be careful if he knew she was watching him.

Scima Workshop Campus, Iver Heath, England.

"I didn't realize I'd dropped my wallet, thanks!" Victor Liu said gratefully.

"Another American?" Neal gave him a wide grin. "Your accent's a welcome sound. I just started on Monday. Name's Steve, Steve Tabernacle. I'm an intern in the art department."

Victor glanced at his blond hair and Coldplay t-shirt and stuck out his hand. "I'm Victor Liu. I'm a veteran of all of three weeks in CGI. Where are you from?"

"UCLA. Man, this gig is a dream come true!"

Neal had spotted Victor heading for lunch at a staff canteen and picked his pocket while Victor was checking out the sandwiches. Nothing like returning a lost wallet to form a friendship. Neal easily persuaded his new best friend Victor to have lunch with him. Sara, in her Alicia disguise of long curly blond hair, tight tank top, and jeans, was seated nearby.

Thanks to the Bureau's established relationship with Scima, John was able to secure quick approval for Neal and Sara's presence. Before going in, Neal was allowed to talk with Mozzie via a video conference call monitored by John.

Mozzie remembered seeing Victor near the Doctor Who set. He'd also spotted Victor close to his desk on one occasion last week. John was skeptical of Mozzie's confirmation, and Neal understood his reticence. Even though Peter confirmed Mozzie's photographic memory, John could easily believe that Mozzie was simply trying to cast suspicion on someone else.

Neal's objective was to cast himself as a hardcore gamer and artist. He intended to brag about the job awaiting him at Scima Gameworks in L.A. Describing it at length was a cinch, since Travis's partner Richard had a similar job. Richard had been Neal's best friend at Columbia and was on a temporary assignment to L.A. Neal had spent the previous evening on the phone with him, grilling him about the latest videogames Scima had in the pipeline. Neal wouldn't reveal anything confidential but would display enough insider knowledge that if Victor was affiliated with the Pod, he'd lick his chops.