Chapter 19: Emerging from the Fog

February 7, 2005. Monday evening.

Dusk had fallen by the time the FBI van rolled up to June's place. When Neal got out, Peter ran through his usual admonitions to get some rest. The order wasn't necessary. A hot shower, unpacking, and sleep were the only items on his list. Taking time for dinner wouldn't be necessary. He'd had enough fast food on the road to satisfy any cravings for months.

Jones insisted on carrying his bag upstairs. Neal made a halfhearted attempt to talk him out of it but was glad for the assist. There were only a few lights on downstairs. It was just as well that June was out since he was starting to feel the need for another pain pill. The normal spring in his step had been reduced to a shuffle. Jones followed him as he mushed his way slowly upstairs.

Mozzie was standing to greet him at the open door to his loft. "I heard you come in," he said, but his smile of welcome quickly turned to a frown. "What's Wet Suit doing carrying your bag? You look pale. Your nose is red. Did you get sick?" Mozzie slapped a hand over his mouth and retreated into the loft.

"You want me to get rid of him?" Jones asked, placing his bag next to the closet. "We know how to handle stowaways in the Navy."

Neal dismissed the idea with a laugh, although for a brief moment it did sound tempting. He thanked Jones who left after tossing a final intimidating glare in Mozzie's direction.

Neal hung up his parka and slouched into a chair at the table.

"What happened to you?" Mozzie demanded, moving only slightly closer.

"Nothing much. Car crash. Fell down a mountain. I'm not contagious." He sneezed and added, "I think."

Mozzie reached into his side pocket and pulled out a face mask. At Neal's arched eyebrow, he muttered darkly, "Flu season. We should always be prepared." Slipping the mask on, he added, "You'd be well advised to carry one, too. If you had, you might have avoided whatever plague you caught."

"Won't your mask prevent you from drinking?" Neal asked with a yawn.

"Good point," he said, sliding it below his mouth. "I'll keep my distance." Mozzie went over to the fridge and pulled out a bottle. "Have some wine. This is a new blend. It has a higher percentage of honey. I'm considering promoting its health benefits, particularly during the cold season." He poured out two glasses. "You can be my guinea pig. I'll also have a glass. You're providing an excellent opportunity to test its preventative properties." Mozzie placed Neal's glass on the far edge of the table and then quickly retreated to the couch with his own glass.

Neal gave the contents a gentle swirl. "Pungent bouquet. One of the gingers?"

He nodded. "Pinecone ginger. The plant has medicinal properties and promotes healing."

With a shrug, Neal took a sip. It couldn't hurt.

Mozz eyed him intently. "Do you notice any change?"

"I only took one sip. I assume it will take a little while longer."

Mozzie took out a pad of paper from his pocket and tossed it over to him. "Record your symptoms and any changes over the next thirty-six hours. I predict a miraculous recovery."

Neal raised his glass to him. "I'm all for that." He'd been relying on antihistamines to keep his sneezes at bay. Honey wine sounded much more pleasant. "So are you clairvoyant that I would need healing or was there another reason for you being here?"

"You'd mentioned you expected to be home by today. While you were at the resort, I've had much to work on."

"The wine business, I know."

"Not just that. Now that I'm on alert, there's no time to sleep at all."

"Some new threat to the yellow-faced bee?"

"No, fortunately, although they may be affected eventually. It's the crisis in Argentina. There's been a new development."

Neal toed off his shoes and propped his feet on the other dinette chair. "Have they discovered Hitler's lab?"

Mozzie wagged a forefinger at him. "You mock me, but you'll change your tune when you see my evidence. During your absence, I was able to obtain photos from that press conference Tricia's husband held."

Neal took another sip of wine. "Checking for clones in the audience?"

Mozzie didn't take offense. On the contrary. "None that I recognized, but I did find someone else. See for yourself." He pointed to a closed manila folder lying on the table.

Neal opened the folder and took out an eight-by-twelve-color photo of the audience. He scanned the faces for a moment then dropped the photo on the table in disbelief. "Is that who I think it is?"

"There's no doubt. I have a high-resolution image on my computer. I blew it up to make sure of the identification. Your cousin Henry was in the audience."

"But why was he there? He's supposed to be in Ecuador. He didn't make any mention of Argentina."

"More to the point, what does he know about the connection between Adler and Hitler clones?"

Neal shook his head doubtfully. "He may not know anything about clones, but he's aware of the speculation about Adler and Wilhelm Salvage. Is Henry pursuing Adler on his own?" That didn't make any sense. Henry had known about Adler and the salvage company since last spring, but he'd never expressed an interest in pursuing the case. What made him change his mind?

#

When Peter arrived at work on Tuesday morning, he was pleased to see that Neal had yet to make an appearance. He must have taken him up on his suggestion to sleep in. If El had been home, she would have insisted Peter take it easy too, but once he heard the news from Tricia, that was out of the question.

At nine o'clock Peter went ahead and started the morning briefing. Neal appeared at the door a few minutes later. With a nod to the others, he took his place at the table. Jones was summarizing the status of the case. Agents had worked through the night on Rinaldi's data files. One possible address for Curtis Hagen was discovered. A raid was conducted in the predawn hours on a house in Hoboken, New Jersey. There were signs of recent occupancy, and judging by the clutter and leftover food in the kitchen, whoever lived there had left in haste. The house was being scoured for evidence.

Rinaldi was brought to New York City yesterday with Tricia coming in for the initial interrogation that evening. Despite his refusal to cooperate, the case was going well. There was more than enough evidence in the files to convict him of real estate fraud in addition to attempted murder. The Dutchman had been identified. The next challenge would be to bring Curtis Hagen to justice. Once the evidence from Hoboken had been processed, Peter hoped they'd have a lead on his whereabouts.

As for the investigation into who had tipped off Rinaldi, that would be ongoing. Peter had already spoken with Hughes who would take the lead in the FBI investigation. Effective immediately, Hughes had authorized tighter control over data access. He'd also delegated Peter to contact Sterling-Bosch.

When Peter asked for an update on Ydrus, Jones fielded the question. "The preliminary analysis of Rinaldi's data files hints at his participation in a money-laundering operation for Ydrus."

"In the email correspondence there is a reference to someone with the code name of Python," Travis added. "When I first saw the word pop up, I thought of Python, the programming language. But Rinaldi isn't the sort of computer geek who would be writing about an object-oriented open-source programming language."

"The insignia for Ydrus is of a snake-like dragon," Neal mused. "They may use snake names to refer to each other."

"That's my suspicion as well," Travis agreed. "In another email, I found a reference to Savu and another to Ringed. I checked and those are both python species."

"Python may be the top figure and the others are his group leaders," Peter said. "Have you been able to determine if Rinaldi has an alias?"

Travis shook his head. "There's little actionable evidence in the emails. The correspondence had been signed with only the Ydrus logo, and the email addresses were strings of numbers."

Peter divided up the work assignments. Jones would be in charge of the Ydrus investigation. Travis and Neal would coordinate evidence processing for the house in Hoboken. Diana would document the evidence against Rinaldi.

After the meeting ended, Peter asked Neal to stay in the room. "Tricia's coming up shortly. I'd like you to be present."

"That's convenient," Neal said. "I was going to ask to meet with her today."

"I'd rather hold off discussing the topic till she arrives. If you need a break, go ahead." Neal took him up on the offer. Grabbing Peter's mug, he left on a coffee run for both of them. Peter returned to his office and took out his files for the meeting. They'd use his office since there would only be three of them present.

When Neal returned with the coffee, he'd slung a canvas bag over one arm. He set their mugs down on Peter's desk, reached into the bag, and pulled out a bottle of wine with no label. "A gift from Mozzie. This is a new blend with magic healing properties."

"Oh really?" Peter said with a chuckle. "Is that why you've recovered so quickly?"

Neal shrugged. "Have you heard me sneeze? He was waiting for me in the loft and insisted I try some. I think it's working." Neal did look better. His nose wasn't red. No sneezes or coughs. Peter wished he could say the same for himself. He was willing to give it a try.

Neal reached back into the bag and pulled out a manila folder. Peter eyed it. "I assume that's not a present from Mozzie."

Neal shook his head. "You're mistaken. Mozzie came bearing many gifts last night."

"Is that why you wanted to meet with Tricia?"

Neal nodded. "And you should know too."

Tricia's arrival cut short his explanation. "Tricia called me last night," Peter said after they'd exchanged greetings. "She'd received news from Mitch over the weekend and we'd like to share it with you."

"Thanks to Mozzie I think I already know," Neal said.

"That Henry was at the news conference?" Tricia asked.

"That's right." Neal opened the folder and pulled out a photo. Peter and Tricia both examined it. "I haven't seen this before," Tricia commented. "How did Mozzie get hold of it?"

"I didn't ask," Neal said. "As to why, you may not be aware of Mozzie's obsession with Hitler clones. When he saw the initial news conference, he went on high alert to extract every detail he could about the discovery. Has Mitch mentioned getting a call from him?"

Tricia smiled. "Not so far. Should I warn him?"

"Hopefully not. I assured Mozzie that I'd act on his behalf." Neal dropped his lighthearted guise as his expression grew serious. "Did Mitch talk with Henry after the press conference?"

Tricia shook her head. "When he called, he said he'd recognized Henry from your birthday lunch last March. After the press conference, he tried to find him but Henry had already left. Did Henry mention anything to you about it?"

"I didn't even know he was in Buenos Aires. Henry mentioned he'd be in South America for his work, but the only country he specified was Ecuador. I tried to call him last night and again this morning but had to leave a message. He'd warned me he probably wouldn't have cell phone service." Neal picked up the photo and frowned as he studied it. "What I can't understand is why he'd be there. Henry has no interest in Nazis. The only thing that makes any sense at all is a possible connection to Adler. Ignoring for a moment the threat of Hitler clones, we've speculated that Adler was interested in looted Nazi treasure. But as far as I know, Henry hasn't been investigating Adler." Neal looked at them expectantly.

Tricia started to speak, but Peter held up his hand. "I better take this one. Tricia and I have no proof but we suspect Henry is trying to discover Adler's location."

Neal huffed in frustration. "Why would he conceal it from me? His father researched Adler on his own, secretly making use of Win-Win resources to try to track him down. Henry wouldn't want to follow in his father's footsteps."

"Not unless he has a very good reason," Peter agreed.

"Which is?"

"You."

Neal exhaled noisily. "What makes you say that?"

Peter braced himself in advance for Neal's reaction. "Agents discovered that on November 30, shortly after Fowler attempted to frame you, Henry made inquiries about him at LaGuardia Airport. Tricia was working with the investigative team at the time and she reported the discovery to me."

Neal sat back and eyed Peter uneasily. But to his credit, he didn't say anything and let him finish his explanation.

"You mentioned to me that you'd spoken with Henry on the very evening he'd been at the airport, but you didn't know he was in New York. That led me to believe that Henry was keeping you in the dark, too. You were about to go undercover on the Samurai bond case so I decided to discuss it with Henry first. He claimed he'd acted on an impulse and had no intention of pursuing the matter. He asked me not to tell you. I agreed to keep quiet as long as he stayed out of it. Since that time this is the first evidence we've had that Henry is continuing his inquiries."

Neal was silent for a long minute before asking, "Does he know about the connection between Fowler and Adler?"

"We have no evidence of that," Peter said, "and I couldn't ask him directly without revealing it."

"But we've had our suspicions," Tricia pointed out. "When you told us about his plans to travel, we wondered if he had an ulterior motive. His volunteer activities with the education through music initiative presented the ideal cover."

"I've regretted having to keep this a secret from you," Peter added. "If you're upset, it's understandable."

Neal shook his head slightly. "No, I get it. Henry shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. It couldn't have been easy for you." He turned to Tricia. "Has any evidence been found indicating that Adler was at the Nazi hideout?"

"Nothing obvious, but there's the standard amount of tourist debris. The ruins are close to a Jesuit settlement which is a popular tourist destination. It appears that many visited the ruins without knowing their history. Mitch is coming home later this week and will bring photos both of the site and of all the items they've documented to date."

"If Henry was in Buenos Aires, he could have gone to the press briefing on the spur of the moment," Peter said, "but we believed you needed to know what's been going on."

"Henry wouldn't have known that Mitch would make the presentation," Tricia said. "An Argentinian archaeologist was originally scheduled to deliver the announcement but had to cancel at the last moment."

"Our hands are tied with Adler being out of our jurisdiction," Neal noted. "Who knows what kind of priority the local officials are giving to the case." He scanned them speculatively. "If Henry could arrange for an official investigation, Win-Win's resources could give us a chance to crack this case."

"We'd considered the same thing," Peter said, "but we've been uncertain about what level of cooperation we'd get from Henry."

Neal didn't comment. He was probably pondering the same question. Last summer, Henry had too often acted on his own in what was supposed to be a joint operation. He'd frequently misled both Peter and Neal. While Peter had no doubt his motives were honorable, Henry had yet to prove he could be counted on to act as a team player.

"You know how Win-Win operates better than us. What do you think the chances are of them taking on the case?" Tricia asked.

"Many wealthy investors lost fortunes in Adler's Ponzi scheme," Neal said. "One or more of them may agree to act as a client. I don't know if Win-Win has any partnerships with Argentinian agencies. Perhaps Henry could arrange for the Buenos Aires Airport to participate in the beta test of the facial recognition software."

"Win-Win's data-mining expertise would be invaluable in tracking down any travel or communications for Adler and Fowler," Peter noted.

"I'm sure he'll call me as soon as he's within range," Neal said. "He'd mentioned he'd be back on Friday. I'll set up a conference call for us. One thing is clear," he added. "If Henry has set his sights on Adler and Fowler, we need to work with him, not at cross purposes. And no more secrets, right?"

"No more secrets," Peter agreed firmly.

#

Tricia left shortly afterward, but Neal lingered in Peter's office. He should get up, but he was still processing what Henry had been up to. Peter seemed to understand and was giving him time to think it through. Neal found it hard to fathom why Henry never said a word about it when they were together for Noelle and Joe's wedding last month. "Did you talk with Henry about this in Hawaii?"

Peter nodded. "Henry laughed it off. Claimed it was a momentary lapse, brought on by guilt for having dropped out of contact with you for so long in the fall."

Neal understood all too well from his own experience how easily Henry could have evaded Peter's questions. The thought of being able to work together to finally bring down Fowler and Adler was exhilarating. But coupled with that was frustration over Henry not keeping him in the loop. Peter wanted to know if he could be a team player. Maybe. If it suited his goal. But would he take guidance? Big unknown.

Once he left Peter's office, Neal headed for the lab to help Travis with processing the evidence obtained from the house in Hoboken. Travis was sitting at a large worktable and using tweezers to tease out shredded paper from a pile on the table. "We found the paper clogged in a shredder," he explained. "I hope we can piece something together but it won't be easy."

Neal joined him at the task. Hours passed. Peter came into the lab later in the day and pulled up a chair to join them. When they finally got the paper untangled, it became a jigsaw puzzle to solve. They were all using magnifying lamps to help the process along.

Several more hours and innumerable cups of coffee later they sat back and looked back at the results of their work. They'd been able to piece together three recognizable scraps. It appeared to be a photo of a painting. Something in crimson—a dress or robe by the shading. Two other fragments were more difficult.

"What do you think?" Travis asked.

Neal continued to study the fragments. "The brown—it looks like raw umber—maybe a riverbank?"

Travis pointed at another piece. "What would you call this color? Olive?"

"More like oxide of chromium. Nothing's coming to mind."

"Assuming Hagen was staying in this house, could this be a photo of a painting he intended to forge?" Peter asked.

"Possibly. It looks familiar but I can't place it."

Travis got up, stretching his back. He walked over to a storage cabinet and pulled out a camera to take pictures of the fragments they'd pieced together.

Peter stood up too. "It doesn't ring any bells for me either." He looked at his watch. "It's close enough to five. I'm taking off. El's home. You're on the early schedule now, Neal. You should have already left."

Neal waved him off without looking up. "Yeah, you need to leave. Tell her I said hi. I'll head off in a few more minutes."

Peter nodded toward the door. "C'mon. I'll give you a ride home."

He couldn't leave now. He was positive he'd seen that scarlet fragment. But where?

Peter rolled Neal's chair back from the table. "On your feet. You don't want to keep me from seeing El, do you? This will all be here tomorrow."

"Okay, I get the hint." Neal got up from his chair with one last look. As he passed Travis, he muttered, "Email me the photos?"

#

El was curled up next to him on the couch in front of the fireplace. Satchmo was sprawled on the floor at their feet. Peter sighed in contentment. All was right in their world once more.

El leaned her head on his shoulder. "Next trip we're going together. No more traveling separately, fella."

"That's a promise. I owe you a real vacation. Any place you'd like to go?"

"Yes, there is, as a matter of fact. The Lynx Mountain Resort."

Peter leaned back to stare at her. "You're serious? I'd thought about it earlier, but after Sunday, I assumed that would be the last place you'd be interested in."

"Don't think it won't cost you. Diana's suite was wonderful. I insist on a suite, ice skating, and, most especially, skiing lessons. You don't want my only memory of skiing to be with Max Rinaldi, do you?"

Peter squeezed her shoulder. "You pick the time and Peter Lamoureaux will be at your service."

She turned her head to kiss him. "We'll probably wait till next year. You've had enough snow for one season. And one other request—no undercover ops please during our next vacation."

Peter winced. "Agreed. No matter how tempting it is. Diana, Travis, and Jones were all singing your praises on the ride back in the van. Diana was especially complimentary of how you managed to hold it together when the op went south."

"When I think about how I was trying to make pleasant chitchat with a man who'd ordered your deaths, it makes my skin crawl," she said with a shudder.

Peter stroked her hair. "Try to put it out of your mind. Treat it like a nightmare that has lost its grip on you."

She turned in his arms to look at him. "Is that what you and Neal do?"

He shrugged. "We have to compartmentalize, hon. Otherwise, we wouldn't be able to continue. We can't forget but we can control the memories and not let them overly influence us."

"I have a new appreciation for how difficult your work is. Having to disguise your feelings. Making split-second decisions when events don't go as they're supposed to."

"You turned in a star performance yourself but I hope you never have to do an encore."

"I agree. I'm swearing off suspense thrillers. Romantic comedies are much more my style."

The fire was dying down. Peter considered adding another log when an idea came to him. "Hon?"

"Hmm?"

"Have you ever seen Gigi?"

She looked up at him, puzzled. "Long ago. I took a film appreciation course in college and it was one of the movies we discussed."

"We should watch it. You and me, champagne, and chocolates. I'll bring in food so you don't have to cook."

"It sounds wonderful," El said. "And in return, I'd also like to plan a movie night."

"What do you have in mind?" He started making a list in his head of her favorites: Emma, The Philadelphia Story, The Thin Man.

"Bull Durham, hot dogs, and beer."

Peter sat back and looked at her in surprise. "That's one of the best baseball movies ever made. You couldn't have picked a better choice."

She tilted her head with a sly smile. "You know, we don't have to wait. I already have a copy. We could skip the hot dogs and go straight to the movie."

"Or even better, fast forward to the final scene. In fact, why watch the movie? We'll reenact the scene here. You'll play Susan Sarandon, I'll be Kevin Costner. We'll light some candles and dance in the living room." He stood up and held out a hand for her. "You know, I've been practicing my dance steps and I'm told I'm not bad."

El took his hand and the glow on her face indicated he'd picked the perfect happy ending.

#

The next day Peter arrived at work a little before eight o'clock. He'd decided not to switch to the early schedule. So many of his meetings ran late that there didn't seem to be much point. On his team, only Diana and Neal had opted for the early shift.

He didn't see Neal at his desk in the bullpen. After dropping off his coat in his office, Peter headed for the lab. Sure enough, Neal was back at work. The paper shreds they'd untangled the previous day were still spread out on the worktable. He had the three largest fragments in front of him and was studying them, elbows propped on the table and chin resting on his hands. His coffee mug was already drained to the dregs.

Peter pulled up a chair and sat beside him. "What time did you get here?"

Neal ignored the question and exhaled noisily. "I know this, and it's so frustrating because I can't place it."

Peter sympathized with the feeling. When something bugged him, he couldn't leave it alone either. He wished he could help. He glanced around the niche. "Why don't you ask your muse?" He nodded to the Raphael drawing on the board. "Isn't a muse supposed to provide inspiration?"

Neal smiled tiredly. "Can't hurt." He turned to the drawing and stopped, transfixed. Staring at her, his mouth open, a wide smile diffused over his face.

"What?"

"You're a genius!"

"Well, yeah, I know that, but how exactly was I a genius this time?"

Neal was typing like a madman on his computer and brought up an image. "This is it!"

Peter stared at it. "That's St. George and the Dragon, the Raphael painting from the National Gallery of Art in Washington. These fragments are from a photo of it?"

"They have to be. The red that was driving me crazy? It's from the princess's robe. You can see a trace of the gold border if you look through a magnifier." He swung over a magnifying lamp for Peter to use.

Peter was quickly becoming as excited as Neal. He got up to study the image on the monitor while Neal printed off a large copy for them to use at the table. "That gray-green piece must be St. George's armor!"

"You're right," he said, examining the fragment. "That mark we couldn't figure out is the rivet in his knee plate." He went over to the printer to retrieve the copy and laid it out on the table. "I was thinking the brown was a riverbank, but it's actually the dragon."

"Those lines on it make sense now. They represent the dragon's scales."

"Now that we have the reference, we're going to be able to match up more of the smaller paper shreds." He began searching through the pieces, laying aside other bits of color.

Peter pointed out a tiny piece that he'd set aside yesterday. "What do you think? Could this be that tower in the background?"

He bent down to examine it. "I think so. And look, I'd stake money this is from the dragon's jaw."

Peter sat back to consider the implication of the discovery. "Why would Hagen shred a photo of St. George and the Dragon?"

"He has to be somehow involved with the theft. He may have stolen it and someone wrote him inquiring about it. Or he could have contacted a prospective buyer. Perhaps he prepared information about the painting to send out, and then for some reason changed his mind. We catch him, we'll not only put the Dutchman behind bars but we may also find the Raphael."

Usually Peter didn't like to engage in overly optimistic speculation, but everyone needs to make an exception from time to time. "He may be able to lead us to his contacts in Ydrus."

Neal sat back and crossed his arms behind his head. "Then it's on to expose Azathoth and capture Adler—not bad work for a sleeper of a semester."

"I'll settle happily for any one of these happening. First order of business is that ship." He nodded to Neal's watercolor of the Dutchman's ship displayed on the whiteboard. "You said I could have it for my office when we caught the Dutchman. Identifying him has to count for something. Don't you think it's time for that ship to sail into my office?"

Madrid, Spain. February 9, 2005. Ash Wednesday.

"You sure Rinaldi won't talk?" Hagen asked.

"Relax. He knows what the consequences would be and Rinaldi is too attached to that daughter of his to let anything happen to her."

Holding his cell phone to his ear, Hagen went over to the hotel window and looked down at the plaza below. Street crews were still cleaning up the debris from Carnaval festivities. He could see the ash marks on the foreheads of some of the passersby. "I'll set up operations here. I assume that won't be a problem?"

"Go ahead. I've already spoken with Python and she's approved your request, but don't forget who owns you. These side transactions of yours almost destroyed your value to us. No more freelancing. You'll be getting plenty from us to keep you occupied. There's a major Sterling-Bosch job in the works."

"Do you know where?"

"The States. Probably not for a few months. In the meantime, proceed with the Raphael. I expect a full accounting of all proceeds."

"Of course. When the furor dies down, I'll return to New York. I guarantee you'll be pleased with your investment."

"Good. You can also finish the other job for me then. I didn't pay you for an incomplete mural in my dining room."

"Raphael's Transfiguration was not finished for years," Hagen pointed out.

"The Pope had more patience than I do."

Notes: The Dutchman may be emerging from the fog, but how will he be brought to justice? Who is Azathoth and what is he planning next? Will Henry agree to join the team to bring down Adler and Fowler? And who was Hagen talking to at the end of this story? To have so much unresolved is typical at White Collar where cases can continue for years, but it's hard to be patient. In the sequel to this story, The Mirror, more of the fog will lift. The action resumes a couple of days after the return from Lynx Mountain. Relationships will be tested as Neal and Peter face enemies on multiple fronts in a case that revolves around Ancient Egyptian artifacts.

If you'd like to read the fanfic Diana was working on, it's the first story in the Arkham Files series, Visions from Beyond.