Chapter 4: Great Expectations

Sara was enjoying this stakeout so much more than last time. In February, during an investigation of Alex Hunter, she'd inadvertently crashed an undercover operation Neal was running. Now they were acting in tandem. It also was a significant help that their quarry was a geeky guy. Definitely not Neal's type.

Even more reassuring was that Sara was able to monitor their conversation through an earpiece. Travis had expressed a package of some of his custom gadgets for their use. Her earpiece was linked to Neal's watch. The feed was being sent to New York rather than London since John's technical resources were limited.

At the initial meeting, Neal had finagled an invite to a local pub with Victor after work. Sara tailed the suspect during the afternoon while Neal searched for incriminating evidence. He was convinced that somewhere was hidden a disguise for the person who'd impersonated Mozzie. She agreed with his reasoning that the outfit wouldn't have been trashed in case a repeat performance was needed.

As far as the Doctor Who production crew was concerned, Mozzie was suffering from a bout of intestinal flu. Victor and whoever else was involved with the scheme must be wondering why there hadn't been any news of his arrest. Sara hoped the uncertainty would lead to a breakthrough. The time remaining before Mozzie would be entered into the system was decreasing far too quickly.

Neal had been able to capture Victor's cell phone signature thanks to the sig-zapper, an electronic marvel Travis had invented last autumn. Taps had also been placed on the phone and computer at his workstation. The one glaring omission from their blanket surveillance was his flat. He rented a studio in Iver Heath, and until there was enough evidence to tie him to the crime, a search warrant was out of the question.

Neal had searched the costume warehouse during the afternoon under the assumption that hiding in plain sight was the best policy. He'd taken advantage of the contacts he'd made during the incident at Scima last year for this case but failed to turn up anything resembling the apparel worn by the Mozzie impersonator during the staged altercation.

At quitting time, Sara tailed Neal and Victor as they took a shuttle bus from the Scima campus to the town of Iver Heath. Their destination was a local pub called The Black Horse. It had a long history of being patronized by actors and production crews from Scima. Sara had switched her disguise in the car before entering the lounge. She was now a frazzled production assistant in coveralls with short curly brown hair. She'd prepared an official-looking document she could pretend to edit while monitoring Neal's table.

Over a couple of rounds of beer, Victor became progressively friendlier. No mention of origami but he revealed an expertise in online gaming that Neal stoked with stories he'd acquired from Jones and Richard. Sara once more marveled at Neal's chameleon-like ability to shapeshift into a different personality. She could assume the appearance of someone else, but he had the gift of projecting someone else's personality.

Sara had just received her second pot of tea and the guys were wolfing down pizza. Neal was complaining about being cut off from the L.A. gaming community when Victor finally took the bait.

"You might be interested in a group I belong to," Victor remarked, his tone a little too casual to be natural. "We focus on the latest games coming on the market. Some of our members work in the gaming industry. We've become the source of insider tips." He smiled. "We call ourselves the Pod."

Neal's eyes widened as he appeared to lap up the talk. "As in space pod?"

Victor grinned. "We prefer to think of ourselves as an octopus, using our tentacles to probe the latest products."

Gotcha. Sara reached for her phone to text John. The Pod was already known to Interpol. Victor's comment should be enough to justify a search.

Victor Liu was taken into custody late that same evening. When the police searched his flat, they found a set of clothes along with a mask for a Mozzie impersonator hidden in the kitchen cabinet. Victor had likely played the role. The clothes had been padded to make his slim frame appear like Mozzie's.

Victor insisted he was innocent and had no idea how the disguise had appeared in his kitchenette. He claimed he'd been framed. There was no evidence to indicate the identity of his accomplices. They knew at least one other had been involved and believed Victor was assisted by other members of the Pod. Evidence provided by Victor's cell phone and computer could prove helpful.

It was past midnight by the time John gave clearance for Mozzie to be released. Neal and Sara delivered the good news in person. John had been considerate. He'd booked Mozzie into a hotel suite in Bloomsbury. The neighborhood was famous for its clique of artists and writers in the 1920s, including Virginia Woolf and E.M. Forster.

When the police detective let them in, Mozzie was working on his laptop in his bedroom. "Come back later," he grumbled.

"Don't you want to hear the news?" Neal asked, shaking his head at Sara. He'd spent the past few days worrying that Mozzie would bolt but evidently Mozzie enjoyed the seclusion.

Sara strode over and placed her hands on Mozzie's shoulders. "This can't wait, Uncle. Write a note about whatever wonderful idea has captured your fancy and then tune us in."

Mozzie smiled without lifting his head. "I suppose the scene can wait. What is it that we're celebrating?"

He took the news with his usual aplomb as if he'd expected it all along. If anything, Mozzie was flattered to be considered Azathoth's silent partner. He even joked about writing stories under the nom-de-plume of Cthulhu. But Sara wouldn't rest easy. They'd managed to save Mozzie from exposure, but who would be targeted next?

#

Neal slept in for the first time in a week. With no scheduled appointments, there was no reason to rush. Scotland Yard would likely be busy interrogating Victor all morning. Unless something new popped up, Neal would fly back to New York on the weekend. When the alarm clock sounded for Sara, he roused himself sufficiently to have coffee with her before she left for work, but immediately afterward headed back to bed. No amount of caffeine would prevent him from making a dent in his sleep deficit.

When he strolled into John's office, it was close to noon. By now, he could read John's expressions almost as easily as he could Peter's and something was wrong. Neal's mood immediately took a turn south as well.

"Victor is exhibiting signs of a deep-seated psychosis," John said bluntly. "The initial processing went fine. He was kept overnight in a holding facility. When the agent arrived in the morning to interview him, Victor was a changed man. Reportedly it was as if his mind had been wiped clean. The suspect has no recollection of who or where he is."

"He's faking amnesia?" Neal asked skeptically.

John shrugged. "Possibly. A psychological evaluation will be required to determine the truth. But even more disturbing is Victor's irrational fear of spiders. He didn't mention anything about spiders to you, did he?"

Neal considered for a moment and came up blank. "No, but we didn't see any. How severe is the phobia?"

"He was seeing spiders everywhere he looked—on the walls, on his clothes. He thought the interrogating agent had one on her jacket. I reviewed the video, and his terror appeared genuine. He became so hysterical, he needed to be sedated."

"Was he given anything to eat or drink?"

"That someone could have doctored? No, he only had water before the symptoms manifested themselves, and we verified that the water hasn't been tampered with. I spoke with a neuropsychologist a few minutes ago. When I reviewed the case with her, she mentioned psychological manipulation as a possible cause."

Neal stared at him, speechless for a moment. The term made him immediately think of Erasmus Penfold, the psychologist who worked for Rolf. He'd tried to program Neal. Was that what happened here too, only this time it was more successful?

"Peter will be at work in about an hour, and I'd like you to be present when I talk with him," John continued. "I'm familiar with Doctor Penfold's methods. The bizarre nature of Victor's illness makes me wonder if something similar is going on. We've grown used to psychological manipulation being the tool of choice for the foe you named Azathoth. I continue to feel confident that Rolf is Azathoth, but we shouldn't dismiss the possibility that his silent partner Cthulhu is the chief manipulator."

John didn't comment further. It wasn't necessary to elaborate on the threat. They'd believed Rolf had hired Penfold. In Hungary, the psychologist worked for Anya Kaldy, the head of Ydrus. But both Rolf and Anya could have been Cthulhu's subordinates.

"I don't expect I'll be able to keep you much longer in London," John said. "I appreciate all the assistance you've provided to the case, and, on a personal note, I'm relieved your friend was able to maintain his unique status."

"As is he. I realize you had to jump through bureaucratic hoops. Mozzie and I both are very grateful. He's back on the Scima campus today."

"I'm looking forward to the episode he wrote." The corners of John's mouth twitched. "I look forward to hearing about Walter Ellis's future writing endeavors."

Neal smiled, appreciating the reference to writing and the lack of comments about Mozzie's non-writing projects.

John hesitated for a moment. "Before you leave, I'd like to discuss a potential opportunity. Interpol is reviewing the increase in art crimes. The successes of the art crimes task force have not gone unnoticed. An expansion in our budget may be forthcoming. If it does, I'll need to ramp up our resources. Currently, there are restrictions to your and Peter's availability, particularly his. I'd like to get a better handle on how you would feel about spending a greater proportion of your time working for Interpol."

A loaded question. If it were up to him, he'd be jumping with glee, but he could already predict the reaction of Art Crimes in D.C. The new boss, Laura Jemison, had warned that White Collar's involvement with art crimes cases might be coming to an end. The partnership with Interpol could be on the chopping block as well. Complicating the situation still further was Peter's low tolerance for overseas work.

"I'd welcome it," Neal said, deciding to ignore the impending landmines for the moment. "I hope you'll keep me in mind if the expansion goes through." If Interpol moved at anything near the rate of speed of the federal government, it would be months or years before anything was decided. He hoped a decision on the Raphael wouldn't be equally slow in coming.

New York. Monday, June 12, 2006.

On Neal's first day back at White Collar, Jones and Diana were seemingly waiting in ambush for him. As soon as he entered the bullpen, the onslaught of questions began.

"Have you heard yet about your painting? Diana demanded. "In other words, just how filthy rich are you?"

"Yeah, Caffrey," Jones added. "If you're looking to invest, I have some sweet deals I could tell you about."

Neal waved them off with a laugh. "Give me a break, guys. I'm still an overworked, underpaid consultant and grad student. The potential Raphael painting is still just a dream floating in the clouds. But"—he made a dramatic pause—"it passed a major hurdle on Saturday."

"Don't make me throttle you for details," Diana warned impatiently. "You know I'm fully capable of it."

"And I wouldn't dream of holding out on you. Provenance had been a sticking point. Without any documentation about the painting, the issue would likely never be resolved. My new friends, the art historians at the National Gallery, uncovered a manuscript from Dunster Castle. It's about an hour away from where I bought the painting. In the castle records from the sixteenth century, there's mention of a painting by Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino."

"Is there a description?" Jones asked.

"Only that it's a Madonna. The castle was a royalist stronghold during the English Civil War. It was looted toward the end of hostilities. Sara had speculated that the painting could have been carried off and that appears to be the most likely hypothesis. Maybe a Roundhead soldier took a fancy to it. At that time, the Madonna disappeared from the record books till I found it in the Shepton Mallet antique shop."

At Diana's whoop of joy, he quickly added, "The Italians have been brought in to see if they can find any records about it. Without additional confirmation, the Madonna will likely remain a mystery woman."

Jones slapped him on the back. "But you got great expectations. I always knew you led a charmed life!"

#

When Peter came downstairs, he joined in the teasing. He was glad to see Neal look relaxed and happy. He wished he felt the same. The news about the suspect's psychological condition had been a blow to the entire team. Rolf was more of an enigma than ever, and whether it was he or the mysterious Cthulhu controlling the strings, the threat they posed was just as strong.

Looking at the team's joking expressions, Peter realized how all the members had become his extended family. Jones was a special concern since he lived alone. More than ever, team members needed to be surrounded by people to help check on them. In that department, Neal was richly endowed. June and her staff provided a buffer, and Henry would also be vigilant. El had promised to take extra precautions, but she, along with all other family members, could be targeted. Perhaps it was for the best that Baby Burke had yet to appear.

At the morning briefing, everyone had their game face on.

"What happened with the Turner painting was a warning to all of us," Peter reminded them. "I'm not about to condone Mozzie's method of operating, but Cthulhu very nearly ruined his value to the team, not to mention the life he'd worked so hard to build. It was a clear warning to all of us. You should discuss the situation with your families. If you feel extra protective measures are needed, let me know."

"You're calling our enemy Cthulhu now?" Travis asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter nodded. "We all should. Rolf has been in isolation for weeks. Whatever role he has in current activities must have been planned long ago. Cthulhu is either acting out his instructions or is controlling the agenda on their own."

Diana nodded gloomily. "Cthulhu rules."

"And along with it the Pod," Neal said. "First video games, then an ancient map, now a film studio. And those are only the cases we've been involved with. Have any other incidents popped up recently that could be related?"

"Glad you asked," Jones said. "When the Scima connection first surfaced, we consulted with the cybercrime task force. There's been an uptick in ransomware attacks on film studios. So far only a couple have been hit and they were smaller independent outfits. It's as if the criminals are testing their methods before attempting a big score."

Diana crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward. "What we need is a new sting, something that takes down Cthulhu and Azathoth too."

"You have something in mind?" Peter asked.

"That video game we invented was a successful lure," she said. "It may be time for us to get into the movie business."

"And I know just the candidate," Travis promptly replied.

Neal exchanged knowing smiles with the tech expert. "You're thinking of Mozzie's project." He turned to the others. "Mozzie's been in negotiations with the Japanese producers of the yellow-faced bee anime series about a possible movie."

"We could build on it," Travis suggested. "Richard, Keiko, and Neal had sketched ideas for a Godzilla movie where Yellowface the Masked Avenger would team up with Mothra to save Tokyo from Godzilla. Hasn't its time come?"

Jones snorted. "Has Mozzie heard of this? It would be his dream script."

"Sorry to be a wet blanket, but this won't wash," Peter declared. "It's far too obvious. Cthulhu will know it's a trap."

"Maybe, but that won't necessarily stop them from making a move," Diana declared. "Our goal is to bring them out in the open. They threw down the gauntlet with the Turner painting. Shouldn't we toss it back in their faces?"

Jones frowned. "The obstacles to the op are substantial. White Collar has no ties with the Japanese outfit. Convincing them to go along could be a non-starter."

"They may not have to agree to much," Neal pointed out. "We could make it a massive snow job. Mozzie could blanket the internet with rumors and speculation. For this, he'll work at no charge." He paused to scan the group. "Mozzie asked me to convey his gratitude for all you did to clear him. He'll work his heart out to ensure the con succeeds."

"Good," Diana said, "because I need his scriptwriting expertise. If we want to provoke chatter, we should use all the tools in our belt, and that includes Arkham Files. Tricia is eager to heighten dissent between Cthulhu and Rolf."

Peter let the others discuss options, but he wanted to bounce the ideas off Tricia before commenting further. A greater concern for him was Victor Liu's current mental state. John had already contacted the Bureau's Boston branch. They were interviewing Victor's friends, family, and associates. Victor's major in computer science was related to the type of experimentation Penfold performed. Was Penfold connected to MIT? Victor's expertise in origami was another piece of the puzzle. It might not be relevant or it could be that was what first brought him to Cthulhu's attention. It also could be indicative that Cthulhu was associated with the university. As an academic, Rolf might have searched for similar attributes in a partner.

#

Neal's first chance to speak privately with Peter didn't come till the afternoon. By then, they'd gotten a further update on Victor. The psychiatrists were convinced he wasn't faking his amnesia, and, if anything, his arachnophobia had grown worse.

"I've asked Jacob to consult on the case," Peter said as Neal took a seat opposite his desk in Peter's office.

"I'm glad to hear it." Jacob Nussbaum was the neuropsychologist who'd treated Neal last summer. He was an expert on the virtual-reality technique that Penfold had used on him and others in Hungary. "Do the Brits think Victor was subjected to VR manipulation?"

"They view it as a real possibility but don't have any supportive evidence. Agents from the Boston Bureau have begun interviewing Victor's associates at MIT. None of them had noticed anything unusual. One remembered Victor mentioning he found spiders creepy, but so do a lot of people, and Victor wasn't psychotic about it at the time."

"His case isn't similar to mine," Neal pointed out, deciding to address the issue he knew Peter was stewing about head-on. "Penfold tried to modify my behavior, not erase my memory. For me, amnesia was never an issue."

"But that only indicates he may employ different techniques. The connections between the Pod and Rolf are too strong for us to dismiss the likelihood of Penfold's involvement."

Despite his hopes of avoiding the issue, Neal had to agree with Peter's conclusion. The prospect that Penfold had set up another laboratory to continue his manipulation experiments was a terrifying one.

"My advice in the briefing is essential more than ever," Peter continued. "If we keep in touch with family and friends, Cthulhu will have greater difficulty in attacking us." He relaxed into a smile. "That vacation at Scotts Bluff is exactly the sort of activity we should be engaged in. Is it still on?"

"More than ever," Neal said, welcoming the change of subject. He and Sara had invited Peter and El to spend a week with them at a guest ranch. It would be a week of horseback riding, fossil-collecting, and stargazing. None of the activities were high priority items for him, but they were for Peter, and the trip had been designed to take place over Father's Day.

"Good." Peter nodded with satisfaction. "I won't even joke about you picking up the entire tab."

Neal broke into a laugh. "Hey, if there's confirmation on the painting, it will be my pleasure!"

"You'd intended to spend the summer reviewing your career options. The painting could significantly increase the possibilities," Peter added, his expression growing serious.

Neal nodded. "You'll likely do the same. John mentioned he planned to contact you about opportunities at Interpol."

"We discussed it on Friday," Peter confirmed.

"Care to share your thoughts?"

Peter took a slow breath. "It's premature since nothing may materialize, but I did discuss the situation with El. If I wish to advance at the Bureau, I should cut back on the number of Interpol consults, not increase them. You'll have similar decisions to make, but there's no rush. Right now they're simply hypothetical scenarios."

When Neal left Peter's office, he headed to a vacant interrogation room to call Henry. Psychological manipulation was back squarely on the table. Hearing about Victor's case made Neal appreciate what a narrow escape he'd had in California.

"Don't let it mess with your head," Henry advised. "You start having nightmares about it, you'll give me a call?"

"I will," Neal promised although he doubted he'd have any. He'd recovered from Penfold's programming long ago. "I don't suppose you have any updates about my father?"

"Not yet but I am making progress. I was able to obtain a list of staff at the police precinct where James worked. I'm also looking into the personnel at the D.A.'s office. The dirty cops James was worried about might have been in league with City Hall. That could be why they escaped being caught."

A promising theory. Neal wished he could help. But he'd made a pact with Henry that he wouldn't investigate on his own. Peter and the team had gone the extra mile to protect Mozzie. He wouldn't betray their trust.

#

"Behind you!" Henry reached for his sword as a massive tentacle whipped out of the vortex.

Neal spun around, keeping a firm hold on the amethyst crystal. The tentacle lashed itself around his waist dragging him into the abyss.

Diana didn't look up at the sound of the knock. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, the characters' words coming faster than she could write them down.

Tricia stepped into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but this is important. I don't want you to waste your creativity on a scene that won't be used."

Diana's shoulders sagged. "Another rewrite?"

Tricia nodded, her mouth drooping in sympathy. She took a seat opposite Diana in the small interrogation room which she liked to appropriate as a writer's cave. "I just spoke with Peter and obtained his approval."

"The basic strategy hasn't changed, has it?" Diana asked, hoping to salvage some of the day's output. "I'm supposed to provoke a reaction by alluding to the incidents we earmarked?"

"That's still in place. The parameters of the new villain have changed though." Tricia smiled. "You're going to like them."

Was that simply wishful thinking? Diana took a breath as she began kneading Peachy, her starfish beanbag. Let Tricia think it was an ergonomic exercise. Already she could feel her tension start to decrease.

"I'd like you to make the villain a woman. You've already referenced Yidhra. Let's combine her with the ideas Henry came up with."

Diana lay Peachy aside, the request already sparking ideas. "The few times Lovecraft included women, they tended to be negative stereotypes. You've mentioned before that you thought Rolf had a problem with women."

Tricia nodded. "At the very least, he's an egotist. His profile makes him an ideal candidate to be a misogynist as well. Perhaps he finds them useful on occasion, but I doubt he would ever concede a woman could be superior to him. I may be wrong, but there's no harm in making Cthulhu a woman."

"And if you're right, Rolf could become so furious that he'd lash out at his partner. I was just writing a scene where a tentacle seized Neal. Rolf could feel similarly squeezed."

Tricia smiled. "It's worth the gamble." She placed her laptop on the table. "Let's get to work."

Three Days Later.

"I'd like to use Fiona." Neal paused when he saw Peter's face in the glass window of the door and beckoned for him to come in. He'd appropriated an unused interrogation room for his call to Sara, and Peter was next on his list.

"Give Peter my regards," she said. "Tell him I can't wait for our joint vacation!"

"I could have talked with you later," Peter said when Neal ended the call. "You didn't need to cut short your time with Sara. It's still the lunch hour."

"We were finishing up," Neal said, keeping a calm expression. This would be a test of just how good a con artist he was. He'd wait to hear why Peter wanted to speak with him before letting him know.

"Jacob contacted me. He's finished his review of Victor's case and has found some striking similarities to manipulation victims documented by the CIA. Since Columbia isn't in session, he's decided to travel to London. The evidence linking Victor to the actual theft of the painting is so slim that John believes the government won't prosecute him, at least for the moment. Instead, he'll be held in a psychiatric facility. Jacob may bring him back to the States for treatment."

"That's a reasonable solution. For all we know, Victor is as much a victim as I was."

Peter studied him for a moment. "I'm glad you're handling this so well. It must bring back unpleasant memories."

Neal shrugged casually. "It's hard to focus on them at the moment. Deciding what to do with the millions of dollars likely coming my way is taking precedence."

Peter's eyes widened. "You heard!"

The time for coolness was over. Neal's grin made his jaw ache. "The Italians were my savior. Historians located a document in their files on Raphael. It was a bill of sale for a Madonna to Sir Andrew Luttrell in 1515. The Luttrell family owned Dunster Castle. This is what is known as provenance! With the collaboration provided by the chemical analysis, the National Gallery is convinced the attribution will be accepted."

Peter just stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. "You'll be a millionaire?"

Neal nodded. "Most likely. I intend to sell it at auction. That's what Sara and I were discussing on the phone. I'd like Fiona to manage it for Weatherby's. It should bring in around twenty million dollars, maybe more."

"Wow," Peter said softly.

"Yeah, that will take getting used to. As far as the eventual publicity surrounding the sale, I'll remain anonymous—I wouldn't want to wreck my cover." Neal shrugged happily. "And I don't need all the interviews which would normally accrue."

"Will you make any stipulations on the sale?"

"Only that I'd like it to be visible to the public. I'd also prefer for it to remain in England. It seems fitting."

"Will Mozzie be your agent?"

Neal grinned. "How did you guess?"

"Do I want to know his alias?"

"I don't think so."

"Those career opportunities just expanded exponentially," Peter pointed out, giving him a knowing look.

Neal had been doing his best not to dwell on what life would look like if the painting was authenticated. Now the moment had come. But nothing needed to be decided right away. Life had the habit of pointing him in the right direction. A last-minute request to go to Saint Louis had changed his life. Events this summer could make the decision for him once more.


Notes: For now, Neal's enjoying the moment. He'll have a few weeks at work then it will be time to head for the Badlands of Nebraska in Dawn of the Jackalopes (Crossed Lines series). After that, the cross-currents in his life come ashore in Tsunami, my next Caffrey Conversation story.