Chapter 13
Staking out the Louvre during opening hours eased the job a little. But the museum was still huge, as was the task at hand. After reflection, the new team decided to work in groups of two. The Captain supervised the operation, while Diana and Kaplan sat in a car in front of the main entrance, Detective Motta and his partner Zora were assigned on the museum forecourt, and Peter and Neal roamed the institution. That last option raised a lot of questions. The French policemen were not prone to let a convicted felon walk around some of the most valuable pieces of art on earth. They finally agreed when Peter argued that Neal was their best chance at spotting a fellow thief.
The first day did not bring any new element to the investigation. The duos keeping watch outside the museum were bored to death, except Diana and Kaplan. If it took them a while to feel comfortable enough to talk, the young woman ended up sharing a lot of memories from her time in New York. She told the story of Neal's arrest, of his escape from supermax, of his second arrest, and of his work with the FBI. The lieutenant marvelled at the deal the bureau made with a criminal.
"Neal is no ordinary felon," she explained. "He is incredibly smart, and totally non-violent. He is also unbelievably faithful to the people he cares about."
"Do you trust him?"
"Not regarding my bank account, but when it comes to having my back, I do, without the slightest doubt."
While everyone was bored, Peter and Neal walked around the Louvre, from one room to the next. The con man seemed to be interested only in the pieces, except for the one they were actually supposed to keep an eye on. The agent lost patience very fast.
"Neal, we're not here to visit!" he hissed. "We have a job to do."
"And that is exactly what I'm doing," his friend replied, rolling his eyes.
"Really? It does not look like it!"
"Peter, we're looking for someone who plans to steal a painting here. We don't want him to spot us. So, I act exactly like I would if I wanted to carry off a piece. If he sees me, he'll think he got my curiosity, not that I try to have him arrested."
"And did you notice anything yet?"
"About our thief, no. But he'll need to be fast. The guards never stay away from a room for more than three minutes. Their rounds seem random, but they're not. They walk around according to a predetermined plan that does not leave places with no surveillance for too long. Even if cameras are not installed everywhere, they are placed in strategic places. It is impossible to avoid them all. Once the thief hits, he'll have to disappear into the crowd and become invisible. Furthermore, he'll need to leave the museum before anyone realizes the painting is missing, otherwise the doors will be closed and he'll be stuck until each visitor is searched, no matter how long it takes."
Peter was impressed. Even out of the game, Neal was still as efficient as ever.
"Do you miss it?"
The question took Neal by surprise. He pondered for a second before answering.
"Stealing, no. Working without you, yes. I had the thrill without risking prison. And…" he paused. "It gave my life a meaning."
A voice in the speaker announcing that the museum was closing for the night ended the conversation. They met at the precinct for a quick and depressing debrief. The day had proven useless.
They used the same setup the next day. This time, Neal and Peter stayed closer to the alleged target. More than two hours after the opening, the agent heard his friend swear under his breath.
"Neal? What's up?"
The con man was not listening. He walked across the crowd, making sure his partner could not follow. Left alone in the middle of the Louvre, Peter called Diana.
"Neal just disappeared in the crowd. He saw something, but I don't know what."
"What do we do?"
"Stay focused. Call the others and keep your eyes open. I'm going to try and find him."
While Diana explained the situation to Lieutenant Kaplan, who then called Motta and Zora, Peter looked everywhere for his friend. He could not call the museum staff. The mayhem that would follow would ruin any chance they might have to succeed. Over an hour later, he had to admit that Neal had vanished. He called Diana again and suggested they'd get together at the precinct.
The French cops were mad, especially the Captain. They were certain that the con man used them to run away, that no one wanted to steal anything from the Louvre in the first place, and that it was just some kind of scam to buy some time and flee. Diana did not know what to think. She wondered what would force Neal to disappear the way he had. As for Peter, he was lost. He did not think that his friend betrayed them. Well, he did not really believe that. But he was also worried about his wife and son, who were supposed to land a couple of hours later. How could he explain to Elisabeth that he lost the young man once again?
"I'm sure Neal will reappear very soon with new evidences on the case." He finally said, even if he was only half convinced. "Meanwhile, I need to get ready to go pick up my wife at the airport."
He turned around and left the precinct without waiting for a reaction. He took a cab to Neal's mansion. When he opened the door, he heard voices. The argument was intense.
"I can't believe you've done that! I can understand why you had to disappear without a trace and let everyone think you were dead. I can live with the fact that you left the Suit and Mrs. Suit behind. But you steal without me? Hitting the museums we spent so much time dreaming about without me? It is a betrayal, plain and simple betrayal!"
Peter was thunderstruck. He stormed across the ground floor and entered the living room. Neal and Mozzie just stood there, staring at each other.
"I did not steal anything, Moz. All that was in the past. What were you doing at the Louvre? Do you plan on hitting it?
"Never, do you hear me? Never. I do have a sense of honor. I would never betray the memory of our friendship for some pieces of art, no matter how valuable those might be."
"I keep telling you I did not betray you. I did not steal those pieces. I'm innocent."
"Who is it, then? You and I are the only two people on earth who can pull out such jobs. And who could have known which pieces we dreamed of stealing before you went to jail?"
Peter was dazed. Neal never told him about the heists he planned with Mozzie. He could not help but intervene.
"You planned those heist? Neal, why didn't you tell me? It was crucial for the investigation."
Silence fell on the living room. Mozzie turned his gaze slowly towards the agent and back towards his friend. Comprehension emerged on his features.
"You thought it was me. You thought that I decided to go on with our plans and you were scared, I would end up in prison. You were protecting me."
"Yes and no, Moz. I thought it was you at first, until the police linked me to the thefts. I knew you would never put cops on my track on purpose. And then, when Peter told me that he gave you reason to believe I was alive, I realized that… I realized that you would think I hit those places. I was sure you would come."
The tension fell in an instant. Neal still had things to say.
"I feel like I spent the last few days apologizing, but it seems that I'm not done yet. I'm sorry that I lied to you, and that I left without you, Mozzie."
"There are times when lying is the most sacred of duties. Eugène Labiche."
"You still love quotes, don't you?"
"It is the job of poets to have enough ideas to provide a quotation for any given set of circumstances."
"John Wyndham. And quoting prevents us from expressing our feelings."
The hug that followed expressed both men's feeling in a much better way than any word could. After a moment, Neal broke apart and looked his two friends in the eyes.
"If neither you nor I did this, who could carry on with our plans?"
Neal's question seemed to float in the air. If they did not find the answer, he and Mozzie would still be the only suspects. The little man was the first one to step out of his torpor. He started pacing the living room.
"Even if I rack my brain over and over, I don't remember sharing our plans with anyone."
"And it is impossible that you'd forget, since you suffer from hypermnesia. I'm the one you shared our ideas."
"With whom? Did you decide to carry them through without me?"
Neal sat down on the couch. He looked up at his friend and asked him to come and join him. Mozzie was way too excited to comply.
"So, who did you choose to replace me with? A clone, maybe?"
"I talked about those plans with… Keller."
The confession was a bombshell. Mozzie stopped dead and came to sit by his friend, while Peter tumbled on the armchair. Neal started speaking again, with an unsteady voice.
"It happened back when we were both part of the Panthers. He was talking about the good old days. I had to make him believe I was willing to do whatever it took. And that the money we were about to steal from the gang would be used to carry on great heists. So I told him about our plans to hit the great European museums. I did not take any risks. If my plan worked, Keller would spend the rest of his life behind bars. If it failed, I would probably die. I guess he found a way to get out of prison earlier than I thought."
Mozzie and Peter shared a surprised look. They just realized that Neal was so busy fleeing at the time that he did not know everything that happened after his fake death.
"Keller never went back to jail." Peter corrected.
Neal looked up, startled. He did not understand. He made sure that his nemesis, the man who kidnapped both El and Peter, would face justice. The agent answered the unasked question.
"That day, when you… when you died. I chased him and caught up with him. He knew what he faced if I arrested him. He tried to make me run for you. He said you did not have much time left. I did not understand what he meant then. He had taken a hostage. A young woman he was threatening to shoot."
He stopped talking for a minute, deep in his memories. When he finally found the strength to continue, it was sotto voce.
"He moved away from that poor lady and pointed his gun at me. I only had a second to react. I shot. The bullet hit him in the forehead."
Peter looked up into his friend's eyes.
"Matthew Keller is dead and buried, Neal. Whoever did this, it's not him."