Chapter 6: The Inquisitor

Azuma Bank. December 6, 2004. Monday morning.

"These are the last of the files, sir." Peter watched resignedly as his secretary Melody rolled in a second file cart of folders.

He'd arrived at the bank promptly at 8 o'clock. Nakahara had shown him to his office on the thirtieth floor. The managing directors had their offices on the same floor. Peter had been assigned a secretary, a young woman named Melody Wright, to assist him. Melody was a new hire and still seemed a little overwhelmed by her job. Checking her resume, Peter discovered she'd received her B.A. in French in May and had only joined the company last month.

Later that morning, Nakahara had taken Peter around to introduce him to the managing directors. In his remarks, Nakahara explained that due to tightened procedures and the heightened focus on ethics, an intensive audit of their records had been mandated by the home office. Peter had been brought in from the West Coast to conduct the initial review of their books.

Leonard Stratton was smooth and polished during the introduction. From his designer suit to his gold Rolex watch, the man radiated prosperity and self-confidence. Finding a chink in that armor wouldn't be easy, but Peter had seen the type before. Once that chink was found, the man would probably crumble. His eyes weren't those of a predator. Peter suspected the façade he presented to his colleagues didn't extend very deep.

Most of the records were digital, but there were also enough paper files to keep him busy for days. Since he didn't want Stratton to suspect he'd been targeted, he'd had Melody collect the files of all the managing directors. But for now, Peter's focus was squarely on Stratton. Peter hoped that there was something in his files they could use as leverage. But that meant ferreting out the needle in the immense haystack in front of him.

Permitting himself one moment of grumbling, Peter sighed. Why was it his undercover work never wound up being glamorous? Was this cosmic retribution for his insistence on file work at White Collar? Peter scowled at his coffee in an anonymous ivory china mug from the floor's breakroom and wished for the FBI mug El had given him. Moment over, Peter resolutely opened the first file.

#

At the end of the workday, Neal entered Peter Morris's room in the Lexington, a luxury hotel in midtown Manhattan. Azuma Bank was less than a block away. It leased several rooms for use by its visiting executives. Nakahara had arranged for one of them to be available for Peter, and the White Collar team had turned it into their field office for the op. When Neal arrived, Jones and Travis had already been in place for several hours. Jones was studying spreadsheets on his laptop. Travis had a headset on and was fiddling with the electronics. Peter hadn't shown up yet.

Neal gave them the bugs he'd planted on Hiroki and Shogo. "You two look like you need a break. Shouldn't we order room service?"

Jones grinned as he closed his spreadsheet. "Hard day with the macros?"

"I did my best to avoid them." Neal flopped on the bed and idly picked up a magazine lying on the nightstand. "Miskatonic Gazette? Who's this belong to?"

"That's mine," said Jones. "It's from one of the Lovecraft fan clubs I joined. I've got memberships now in both the States and the U.K. My knowledge of arcane Lovecraft lore is approaching the expert level."

Travis took off his headset. "You should consider starting a wiki to bring the rest of us up to speed. We could start a Lovecraft Trivial Pursuit championship at work, perhaps as an online exercise."

After the team discovered Azathoth's fondness for Lovecraft references, Diana suggested he might have a connection to one or more of the Lovecraft fan groups. She and Jones volunteered to monitor them as well as the gaming communities. Both of them were avid gamers, and the chance to conduct gaming surveillance as part of their jobs was likely their concept of the dream assignment.

Neal thumbed through the magazine ... Long articles on Lovecraft lore. Scattered references to various video and board games ... An upcoming art contest caught his eye.

The door opened and Peter stepped inside. Neal was pleased to see he'd gotten into his role of a prosperous banker, wearing the wool overcoat Neal had recommended rather than his standard rumpled beige raincoat.

"How'd your first day as an auditor go?" Neal asked as Peter hung up his coat. "Did you feel like you were returning to your first love?"

Peter settled into an upholstered chair by the desk next to Travis. "After a day of poring over financial records, I'm quite satisfied with my career choice of the FBI."

Neal handed Travis his snooper pen. "I took several shots of Shogo and Hiroki's monitors. There's probably nothing incriminating on them." Plumping the pillows behind his head, he asked, "Did my bugs pick up anything useful?"

Travis gave a satisfied nod. "Shogo placed a call to Stratton in the morning on his cell phone. He repeated the story you'd spread during doughnut time."

"The doughnuts were a good idea," Jones said. "Thanks for dropping off a box for us."

Neal waved away his thanks. "Hiroki and Shogo took me to lunch. Only one martini this time. Nothing incriminating on the surface. I tried to find out more about the heist, but they're keeping it under wraps. This afternoon I overheard them talking. They're concerned the Inquisitor will find out something."

Peter raised a brow. "So I'm the Inquisitor?"

Neal nodded. "Morris the Inquisitor. The story about how you persecuted me in L.A. was the hot topic of conversation over doughnuts. That and the holiday party. It's scheduled for Thursday evening."

"I saw the notice about the event," Peter said. "It'll be held in the bank lobby. If they plan to pull something off, they may take advantage of the event. I'll ask Nakahara for details about it." He turned to Jones. "You've been working on Stratton's digital files. Any discrepancies show up yet?"

"Not so far. We have records for the five previous years. If there's anything to be found, it could be buried deep."

While Peter and Jones talked about the projects Stratton had been involved with, Neal reached for the notepad next to the phone on the nightstand. Tearing off a sheet, he began folding it into a frog. It'd been a long day. His mind started to wander to the topic for his evening class. His paper was due in ten days and he was only about halfway done—

"Several records on Kigiku," Jones said, looking down at his notes.

"Kigiku?" Neal repeated, sitting upright, origami forgotten.

Peter shot him a questioning look. "That's right. Ring a bell?"

"Shogo and Hiroki mentioned Kigiku. I didn't make the connection at the time, but that must have been what they were talking about." Neal exhaled in relief. It wasn't Fiona after all.

"Kigiku Health Products is a company in the Philippines that was a recent acquisition target," Jones explained. "Were you thinking it referred to something else?"

"Kigiku means yellow chrysanthemum in Japanese. They'd been talking about Fiona and I assumed that was the name they were using for her. They'd been bugging me for her name and I wouldn't give it to them."

Peter's brow furrowed. "They know about Fiona?"

"Unfortunately, they noticed she was with me at the gala. They've been trying to get me to bring her to the holiday party. I invented a new girlfriend named Tiffany to distract them."

"Probably just idle talk, Caffrey," Jones said. "I wouldn't stress over it."

Easy for Jones to say. It wasn't his girl they were talking about. Still, they'd have a difficult time tracing Fiona. "Do you want me to stay and help with the files?"

Peter shook his head. "You've got a class tonight. Not many left before the end of the semester."

"Actually this is the last one. Papers are due next week."

"You better focus on that then. Jones already offered to stay and help. We can give you a lift to Columbia on the way back to the Bureau and then drop Travis off in the Village."

"I can take the subway, Peter. It's out of your way."

"Not so much."

#

Peter wasn't completely altruistic in his offer to drop Neal off. He reasoned that if he and Jones had to sacrifice their evening, their stomachs didn't have to be tortured too. Leo's Deli, home to his favorite comfort food, wasn't far from Columbia. He needed to show his appreciation for Jones staying late and Jones had never had the thrill of Leo's. On second thought, maybe he was being altruistic after all.

Back at the Bureau, loaded down with pastrami and corned beef sandwiches, potato salad, and cherry cheesecake, Peter figured they were good for several hours. They set up shop in the upstairs conference room. Diana hadn't left yet. When she caught sight of their feast, she offered to research the Yakuza. An hour into their marathon, Peter called timeout. They spread out their supper supplies in the breakroom.

Anything incriminating pop up yet?" Diana asked as she smeared mustard onto a corned beef sandwich.

"We're concentrating on the Kigiku acquisition," Peter said. "I hope Neal's right. We need something to filter all the deals Stratton's been involved in."

Jones spooned out some potato salad. "I've pulled his tax return data from the IRS and have been correlating it with Azuma's records. It's slow going."

"How much time do you have?" Diana asked.

"Not much," Peter said. "We know the heist is planned for this week, most likely during the holiday party. Diana, I'd like you to work with Travis tomorrow on a stakeout at the event. Hughes will meet with both of you tomorrow to coordinate the op. We may want to call on extra units for assistance."

"Have you unearthed any gems about the Yakuza?" Jones asked Diana.

"Nothing specific. This is my first opportunity to research them since Quantico. Normally this is Organized Crime's turf. The Yakuza have made significant inroads into the New York crime scene over the past several years. Smuggling firearms and drugs, gambling, fraud, extortion, prostitution, you name it."

"That club Hiroki and Shogo took Neal to could be a Yakuza stronghold," Jones said.

Diana nodded. "I've already spoken with Organized Crime about it. The Golden Lotus is on their radar." Between bites, she added, "The Yakuza trace their roots back to samurai times and they haven't lost their love of swords. Nowadays, it's mainly knives and finger amputations. Has anyone found any link between Stratton and the Yakuza?"

"Not yet, but they're so secretive, he could easily have a connection we don't know about." Peter made a mental reminder to remind Neal to proceed warily. He'd been much too casual about the threat on Saturday.

After the supper break, Diana headed home while he and Jones hunkered down over the files. Peter liked to think it was the cheesecake that caused the eureka moment. There, buried in the Kigiku file, was the proof that Stratton had accepted paybacks. After texting Neal to call him when his class was over, Peter and Jones headed home. The plan was coming together.

#

Thanks to the lift, Neal arrived at Columbia ahead of time. He decided to stop off at the Aloha Emporium for a quick bowl of Billy's tiger shrimp noodles before class. When Neal walked through the door, the mellow tones of bamboo wind chimes blended with Hawaiian music to make him feel like he was in Hawaii. Coconut-scented candles added to the effect. Neal wasn't the only one who found the emporium appealing. Most of the tables in the cafe were already filled.

Billy was sitting at one of the tables with Mozzie. Blueprints were spread out in front of them. Neal suspected they were making plans for their new venture. After he placed his order at the counter, he went over to join them.

"Aloha!" Billy said. "Did Steve take care of you?"

"Yes, is he new? I don't remember seeing him here before."

Billy motioned him to a chair. "Steve is one of my sister's boys. He arrived from Hong Kong a couple of weeks ago and will be working here for a while. His English isn't very good yet, but he's a quick learner." Pouring him a cup of tea from the teapot on the table, Billy added, "You should try this. It's a new addition to our line: Hawaiian organic shade-grown forest tea. Lovely floral bouquet. Very soothing." Something about Billy's smile as he poured the tea was troubling. Neal eyed him and Mozzie suspiciously. Did they think he would need soothing?

Mozzie beamed at him. "Billy and I've been working on a design for the honey display. Something impressively large "—Mozzie waved his arms expansively as he gestured toward one of the walls—"made of bamboo. We'll need to have room for both the honey and the wines. It will probably fill the entire wall."

Neal glanced over at Billy to judge his reaction to having his cafe taken over by the new display. He appeared equally enthusiastic.

"The white walls will have to go," Mozzie continued. "I envision large paintings—murals perhaps—of Hawaii's fauna and flora: orchids, birds, butterflies, bees—lots of bees—all in their natural settings. You won't have any problem with that, will you, Neal? Oh, and did I mention we'll need wine labels? They should be in the same style. What do you think, Billy, something similar to Gauguin's style?"

"Gauguin sounds good," Billy agreed.

Neal dropped his chopsticks, food forgotten, as he listened to Mozzie's plans with growing dismay. When had he become a partner in this venture? He'd just come in for a quick bite, not for a major undertaking. Mozzie was right about the walls though. They'd provide ample space to work with. There was even a small patio in the back that had potential. Neal could include elements from the patio in his paintings to extend the space. But what was not in generous supply was his time. He'd counted on cutting back over the holidays after a semester of non-stop work and classes.

Two pairs of eyes were looking pleadingly at Neal. Billy sweetened the proposition with the offer of free food and Kona coffee. Neal felt his resistance weaken. He did love Billy's tiger shrimp, and a free supply of Kona coffee wasn't to be sneered at.

Mozzie was relentless. "Your classes don't start till after Martin Luther King Day. That should give you plenty of time to finish everything. When the new semester begins, the transformed emporium will be ready to welcome all those returning customers."

Neal gave them a tenuous smile. Mozzie must have been working on this for a while. He'd even checked on Neal's schedule. If Neal hadn't shown up, Mozzie would have probably cornered him in the loft. Neal could have gone over the thousand and one reasons why he didn't have time, but he had to admit, the idea was tempting, and once Mozzie latched on to a scheme, he didn't give up easily.

Billy was sensitive to his hesitation. "Perhaps only one painting to start? Then you could let us know if you have time for the others."

"Neal doesn't mind. Make it at least three." Mozzie started searching through his notes and muttered, "Now where did I leave my list of suggestions for you?" He became increasingly frantic. "I must have left it in my office. I won't be a moment."

He scurried off before Neal could quiz him, so he looked to Billy for enlightenment. "Since when does Mozzie have an office?"

"He's carving out a space in my basement for his use. I haven't been allowed to see it yet."

"My sympathies, but my loft thanks you."

Billy smiled ruefully. "I didn't appreciate when Mozzie suggested the partnership that I'd be adopting him as well, but what's one more relative?" Billy replenished Neal's cup. "And what about you? All is going well?"

Neal nodded. "I'm working on an interesting case. There may be Yakuza involvement. Do you have any experience with them?"

Billy's eyes narrowed. "Kamakiri, that's my name for them. The kamakiri is a giant Japanese mantis—a dragon of the insect world and a fearsome predator."

Neal rotated his cup of tea, sniffing the potent fragrance. "Any suggestions on confronting a giant mantis?"

"The kamakiri is a dangerous foe. It's hard to defend against." Billy eyed Neal thoughtfully. "Are you familiar with the Japanese stone orchid?" When Neal shook his head, he said, "It's a white orchid with variegated leaves. Some view variegated leaves as a defense mechanism of the plant. By feigning sickness, it escapes being eaten. A strategy that could be instructive."

Neal wound up staying longer than he should have at the emporium. Mozzie came back with his list. It was wildly impractical, but Billy and Neal succeeded in whittling it down to something not quite so overwhelming. Neal left with the promise to get back to them and then raced through campus to Schermerhorn Hall. As he ran, he tried to put thoughts of Gauguin and giant mantises out of his mind.

This was the final session of Dutch baroque painting. It was taught by his advisor, Ivan Sherkov, and was his favorite course. Fiona was also taking the seminar and seeing her in class was an added enticement.

Neal slowed to a walk as he neared Schermerhorn, thinking back on Peter's invitation to have them over for dinner. That had been awkward. He and Peter hadn't ever discussed Fiona. Just as well. He had a hard enough time explaining their relationship to himself. Mozzie's criticism of his love life had stung. He couldn't deny he'd deluded himself about Kate. And he was growing to accept the misfire with Sara had been his fault. He'd been too complacent. He'd prided himself on his ability to read others. It was humbling to learn that when it came to matters of the heart, he had some blind spots.

Now he was less sure of himself. Fiona had shared mistakes she made with Philippe, a man she'd dated throughout her university years. She and Neal bonded over their failures and they both vowed not to make the same mistakes with each other. There'd been too much drama in the past. This time would be different. No strings. No pressure.

But was that possible? Neal wasn't seeing anyone else and neither was Fiona. Others assumed they were a couple well before they had. And this business with Hiroki and Shogo ... Neal had been surprised at how upset he'd been over their mention of her. Was he fooling himself about his feelings toward her? Or was it simply he didn't want her associated with what could be a dangerous assignment?

Neal shook off his thoughts as he entered Schermerhorn. During the seminar, the students were called upon to discuss their papers. He was writing about Rembrandt's technical innovations, focusing on his impasto technique. Neal wanted to bring his painter's perspective into the analysis. No need to mention his forgeries of Rembrandt, although there was one he was especially proud of.

At the end of the seminar, Sherkov brought out a bottle of his favorite pepper-flavored vodka and shot glasses. "A toast to all of you, my friends. I am looking forward to being enlightened and swept away by the revelations in your papers. Please do not disappoint me."

It would be so much more pleasurable to paint an example of Rembrandt's technique than write about it. Too bad he no longer had that Rembrandt forgery. Neal chuckled as he put away his notes.

Sitting next to him, Fiona turned to look at him. "Private joke?"

"Strategizing how best to dazzle Sherkov with my brilliance."

"When you figure it out, clue me in. He's reputed to be a harsh critic on final papers. I'll spend the next several evenings curled up around my laptop to finish mine."

"How about taking a break on Saturday? You're heading back to the U.K. after exams. I'll be in Hawaii. We should spend some time off to enjoy a New York Christmas before we leave."

Fiona's face lit up. "I'd love to. We could hit the holiday display windows, watch the skaters at Rockefeller Plaza ..." Giving him a mischievous grin, she added, "I'll start a list."

Fiona's fondness for keeping spreadsheets had become a favorite subject for teasing. "Do you have a list about me?"

"Of course. Color-coded with multiple tabs."

"Any chance I could see it?" Neal asked hopefully.

Fiona smiled. "Not in this lifetime."

#

Peter had just finished a crossword puzzle when Neal's call came through. He filled Neal in on what they'd learned about the Kigiku acquisition. "So now we have our weapon. We just need to convince Stratton to include me in his scheme."

"I was thinking about that on the way home," Neal said. "Stratton's vulnerability is his wife. You have something in common with him."

"I do?"

"Yes, not your wife, of course."

"Thank you, Neal. El will be so relieved to hear you say so."

Silence on the other end. When Neal came back on, he was noticeably subdued. "She's not listening in again, is she?"

Peter chuckled. "Not this time. So if El isn't my vulnerability, who is?"

"Your son. A real spendthrift. Always getting into trouble. Yes, the kid is to you what Strattons's wife is to him. Peter, you'll like this. It'll be so easy for you to milk the countless ways your son has disappointed and manipulated you."

Neal's idea was a good one and would be easier than he realized. Given how much Neal and Henry were on his mind these days, this tactic would be a no-brainer.

#

The next morning Peter called his secretary into his office. "I want you to go to Stratton's secretary and request all of Stratton's paper files on the Kigiku acquisition."

A look of dismay flashed over Melody's face. "She may not be able to comply without a written requisition, sir."

"And that's why I'm providing you with this." Peter handed her the form. "Make a special point of asking if there are any outstanding documents that have yet to be filed."

Melody nervously smoothed her hair behind an ear. "He won't be very happy, sir."

"No, I don't expect he will be."

She returned a half-hour later, looking somewhat flushed.

"Everything go okay?" Peter asked.

"His secretary tried to intimidate me," Melody confessed, "but I held my ground. She conferred with Stratton and told me you'd have everything within the hour."

"Good. Make an appointment for Stratton to see me at three o'clock this afternoon." Peter then texted Neal the status. When they'd talked last night, Neal felt that Stratton would contact Hiroki and Shogo to pump Neal for more information about Morris. An hour later, his prediction proved accurate. Neal texted him he'd been invited out to lunch. Peter smiled. With Neal laying the groundwork, his meeting with Stratton that afternoon should be revealing. Their double-teaming was working out as well as he'd hoped, even if he was the one stuck with file duty.

#

"More sake, Nick? We can't leave without sampling at least one more. The restaurant would be offended."

"Great idea." Nothing better than a three-sake lunch. Neal sighed inwardly. He would definitely need Vijay's help with the presentation this afternoon. Hiroki and Shogo had invited him out to Sakagura down the street from the bank. Hidden away in the basement of an office building, it seemed more like a private club. Sakagura was renowned for its extensive sake selection and his two hosts seemed intent on trying as many as they could. "So when will I hear more about what you're planning? You mentioned on Friday that you were including me on some score, but I haven't heard anything since." Neal revved up the whine in his voice. "I bet there isn't anything. Are you trying to pull one over on me?"

Shogo quickly shot back. "We wouldn't kid you. This is huge."

Neal put on his grumpy face. "Yeah, right. You gonna superglue the manager's coffee mug to the desk? Been there. Done that."

Hiroki poured him more sake. "This is no grade school prank. We're still working out the details, but I can tell you this. It will be unlike any other holiday party you've been to before."

Neal grinned broadly and added a slight slur to his words. "That sounds more like it. The last holiday party in L.A. was a total sleeper. Figures. That was during the dark days of Morris the Inquisitor."

Shogo clinked cups with him. "Here's to leaving those days behind. You know, the guys who are the worst tyrants are usually the ones that have the most to hide. They have such guilty consciences, they take it out on us poor hardworking grunts."

"You got that straight."

"Let's play a game," Hiroki suggested. "Dream up what Morris the Inquisitor could be hiding. One shot per guess." At Shogo and Neal's enthusiastic agreement, Hiroki said, "I'll start. Check forgery when he was a kid."

Shogo poured more sake into their cups. "Wire transfer fraud."

"Forged loan document," Neal said, tossing back a sake.

After another round, Neal said morosely, "If we were only talking about his son, this could all be true."

Hiroki topped off his sake. "Do I hear family scandal? Come on, Halden, dish the dirt."

"The word is his son's a real loser and a major source of embarrassment. I dated the Inquisitor's secretary for a few months last year. Delightful girl. Her name was Mona. I called her my Mona Lisa." Neal let his voice slur even more. "She used to tell me all the family gossip."

Hiroki leaned so far forward he nearly planted his face in his sashimi. "What was the son like?"

"The exact opposite of Morris. Into fast cars and fast women. Couldn't get enough of either. Went through money like it was potato chips. Morris has hauled his ass out of the fire so often his hands must be permanently singed. Mona gave me one particularly outrageous example." Neal paused to make sure he had their full attention. "A couple of years ago, he had to pay off his son's gambling debts. Supposedly he didn't have enough funds, so he ripped off the bank by fabricating expense reports. Mona said he even forged receipts. Can you believe it? Then he gives me grief for my little dinners. What a jerk."

It was 1:30 by the time Neal got back to the office. He texted Peter: "Easy shot, inside pocket."

#

"Take a seat, Leonard," Peter said, giving him a friendly smile when Stratton arrived at his office.

The managing director projected his usual assurance. Sliding into the leather chair opposite Peter's desk, he gave no hint of anything wrong. His face had the tolerant expression of an indulgent parent watching his child's fumbling attempts to tie his shoes. "I understand you have some questions on the Kigiku acquisition," he said. "I'm happy to clear up any confusion."

"Excellent, I'm sure it's a simple misunderstanding. One file in particular gave me pause. It contains the financial transactions during a two-week period last August."

"Last August, let me see ..." Stratton's face remained outwardly calm as he faked an effort to recollect, but Peter noticed his foot starting to tap. After a half-hour of intense drilling, Stratton became defensive and argumentative. "I can pay the money back. It was an innocent mistake."

"That won't do, Leonard. Like all banks, Azuma faces intense pressure. Regulators hold our feet to the fire to not even have the whiff of impropriety. The board at Azuma has made it a personal mission to stamp out any malpractice. If I were to allow this to go unpunished, it'd be my neck on the line."

Red-faced, Stratton said, "I know it looks bad, but in some parts of the world bribery is routine in conducting business transactions." He paused as if waiting for Peter to commiserate with them, but that wasn't going to happen. Finally, he admitted he'd needed a quick influx of cash because his wife had drained their account. "I'm sure you can understand the extremes our families can take us to."

"No, I can't."

"Really? You're not familiar with the problems that can occur between fathers and sons? I think we have more in common than you realize. We should discuss our mutual situations over dinner tonight."

Stratton left after persuading Peter to join him at one of Manhattan's top steak restaurants, Sparks Steak House. This was an evening he was looking forward to. Peter Morris would be out on the town with no surveillance duty and or files staring him in the face. For once, he was going to enjoy the perks of undercover work.

Notes: New York City is home to so many fine restaurants that I indulged in using real restaurants rather than making them up. You can find pins of Sparks and Sakagura on the Evening with Genji board on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site. And, yes, Sakagura does have an amazing sake selection. Peter's favorite deli, Leo's, is an invention based on several Manhattan delis.