Chapter 5: Lurking in the Loch
Edinburgh, Scotland. Friday, May 25, 2007.
"Do officials know when the theft occurred?" Peter asked.
"They believe it was after January 14," Neal said. "That was the date the ring was examined by a gemologist. It had been lent to the French for an exhibition at the Louvre on French jewels of the eighteenth century. The National Museum has standard procedures in place for verification of artworks upon their return."
"I bet they were mortified when Sara pointed out the issue."
Neal chuckled. "They were red-faced about it. The emerald was an excellent copy, but a loupe examination quickly revealed it was manmade."
Neal caught Peter in his office shortly before he was due to leave to meet El at the townhouse. The McNally Solitaire posed several complexities. Peter tended to agree with Neal that a possible link to Phoenix needed to be investigated.
Neal called from the hotel suite rather than the museum and Peter understood why after he revealed that he and Klaus had studied the gem. Although Neal didn't say that was why Sara alerted officials, Peter knew that was the cause. It was a smart move. Neal had made a name for himself in the art world but very few knew of his expertise with gemstones.
The more troubling issue was whether Klaus was involved in the theft. After Neal left his crew, had Klaus secured another jewel forger? Was he conning them by working for the French while continuing his activities as Phoenix? Without his help, they wouldn't have recovered the Mona Lisa, but he could have sacrificed the Austrian client to secure his liberty.
"I assume you told Hobhouse?" Peter prompted.
"Yes. He's also aware of the history Klaus and I have with the ring. I haven't contacted Marcel yet." Neal took an audible breath. "Klaus may know of a forger who works with antique gems. On the other hand ..."
"By telling him, Marcel would alert him that the forgery has been discovered. That's a tough decision for his handler to make."
"Exactly," Neal said gloomily. "I believe Klaus is sincere, but I realize I'm not the best person to judge. I value your and Henry's input. Could you talk it over with him and let me know?"
"I will," Peter promised. "What was John's advice?"
"He thinks we shouldn't discuss it with Klaus and Marcel for the time being. The other reason I'm calling is that the National Museum isn't using the malware Aidan's company developed. They're not alone. Many gem collections are displayed either in natural history museums or special vaults. I know Diana and Sara asked Aidan to look into jewelry heists. The National Museum is willing is have him review their software as well. John will handle the details."
"Will Aidan be able to pull himself away from Red Sands?" Peter joked.
Neal chuckled. "For this, he and Travis both will. If there's any connection to Rolf, I bet they'll find it."
#
"You handled it the right way," Sara said. She'd sat beside Neal on the loveseat during the call, offering silent support. "Peter was reading between the lines. He'll discuss it with Henry and get back to you."
Neal nodded silently, his mind elsewhere. After a moment, he took a breath and smiled at her. "Was this what it was like for Peter when I started working for him as a consultant? Was he constantly wondering if I was playing him?"
"No," she said firmly. "You and Klaus aren't alike. You didn't betray Peter as Klaus has you. You didn't run a long con against Peter before you started working for him. Rolf is a master manipulator." She drew him close to her. "You're an expert at many skills—forgeries, burglaries, cons." She lowered her voice and placed her hand on his thigh. "Making love."
He grinned as she hoped he would. "Dinner's still an hour off."
"And we haven't dressed yet. There's a reason for that, but let me finish. You're a con, but not a manipulator. So don't get lost in your head about what hidden agendas Klaus may have. I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. And I bet John will too. In any case, how to handle Klaus isn't your decision to make." And I'm glad you don't have that pressure.
"You're right, as always. But this is giving me a new appreciation for how difficult it was for Peter when I was accused of stealing Marie Antoinette's earrings. Not once did I think he believed I was guilty. I didn't give him enough credit. He must have been pressured to throw me under the bus."
"What does your instinct tell you about Klaus?" she asked.
"That he didn't steal the ring. And I don't think he commissioned the forgery. He would have noticed the issues. Klaus has as good an eye as Mozzie."
"You make a strong case. Here's another possibility to consider. Perhaps Klaus discussed it with Rolf who later went ahead with the project."
"But since it's a recent theft, that means Rolf's partner would have executed it," Neal pointed out.
She nodded. "And they didn't have as exacting an eye."
#
El was filled with a mixture of nervousness and excitement as Peter pulled into the garage of what could be their new home. This was his first visit to the house. Janet had already arrived and raised the garage door for them.
Neal often talked about backscratches—the exchange of favors between thieves. Janet and the couple who owned the house were doing something similar. Janet had helped with several of their productions. And El knew from personal experience how generous she was with her time and talent.
Now the couple was reciprocating. They weren't using a real estate agent, saving the cost of fees. Mozzie volunteered to help with the paperwork and Peter hadn't even raised an eyebrow about it.
"What do you think of the garage?" El asked. "Some of the houses on the street use the ground floor for extra living space or to make an apartment."
Peter nodded slowly as he took in the features. Was that a smile forming? "I like what the Webers did. They must have enjoyed carpentry. Did you see the workbench?"
"I did." Peter didn't currently have a workbench. Was he already strategizing where he'd store his tools?
Janet was standing at the doorway leading into the house to welcome them. As El greeted her, Peter lingered a moment longer at the workbench. The workspace was small but was customized with built-ins. "I think he'll be sold by the garage alone," Janet whispered to her.
He confirmed it a moment later when he approached them, that smile now on full display. "You'd make a great real estate agent, Janet. You started with the best feature."
"Would you like to see the rest of the house?" she teased.
"I probably don't need to but lead the way," he joked. His good mood made El's spirits soar. He hadn't been so positive at first, but he told her Neal provided an eye-opening perspective. Someday she needed to learn the details.
Janet let El do the talking as she pointed out her favorite feature—the spacious kitchen that opened into the living and dining areas. The house was nearly double the size of their current home. On the second floor was the main bedroom along with the baby's room. The third floor would be divided into their offices and a guest room. The courtyard was already landscaped with trees. Peony had helped create the gardens on the rooftop terrace. The interior had walnut floors throughout with exquisite wall moldings. The Webers hadn't renovated the kitchen, and the avocado-green appliances would have to go. But since the colors and appointments were dated, the price was more reasonable.
But would Peter erect roadblocks?
He'd voiced his concern about her tackling the project with her due date less than three months away. She'd countered that the timing was perfect. Summer was the slow season for her business and her growing staff could easily accommodate the workload.
She didn't anticipate they'd have any difficulty selling their current townhouse. A couple down the street from them sold their house in less than a week and it hadn't been renovated.
Janet was a dream finance lender. She offered to provide ninety percent of the price with El and Peter contributing more after the sale of their house. She even offered to let them delay their payments so they'd have funds available for remodeling.
El was already making a list in her head. Repainting, of course. New kitchen appliances. The cabinetry in the kitchen and baths was lovely workmanship but needed to be refinished. New countertops and sinks. Perhaps new windows. She'd already gone through kitchen and bath remodeling at their Brooklyn home so she knew what she wanted. She'd even checked with Eric to find out about his family's availability. He promised her they'd do their best to get the work done. He'd already reserved a tentative start date of mid-June.
But would Peter feel too rushed? Janet wasn't interested in purchasing it unless they were the partners, but she'd assured Peter he shouldn't feel pressured. El smiled as Baby Burke gave a kick. I know what you want to do.
#
Sara removed her scuba mask. "When I mentioned more thieves needed to bury their treasure like pirates, I didn't anticipate that would be in our future."
Neal shook the water out of his hair. "Welcome to your new life as a pirate thief!"
"And hopefully tonight I'll have my initiation into cat burglary."
They'd driven to Loch Arkaig in a camper van packed with snorkeling gear and tools of their trade. The tools were all disguised within other pieces of equipment in case the van was searched. Clearing customs hadn't been difficult thanks to the clearance John provided. No thief should be without friends in high places.
Neal used to think nothing would match the high of planning a heist, but he'd discovered that planning one with Sara and friends, knowing that the cause was a worthy one, was even better. They'd opted out of wearing disguises in favor of diving. Realistically, they couldn't do both. Sara was particularly disappointed, but Neal wasn't. In his experience, a disguise could be a crutch that provided a false sense of security. The true con artist sold the con by the force of their personality. For this con, he'd designed a role for Sara that suited her personality. Her natural enthusiasm would help sell it, making his task easier.
If Phoenix was observing them, nothing would give away that they were seeking the Renoir. Neal had already established a reputation on the dark net as a rogue pirate. In Sara, he had the ideal pirate's mate.
Woodman's estate was on the north side of the loch. The house was three hundred yards from the shoreline. They knew from maps that they were staying on his land, but the boundaries weren't well marked.
They'd brought along enough provisions for two days but assumed Woodman wouldn't leave them alone for long. During this first afternoon, they snorkeled several different areas of the loch. The Highlands were still chilly, and the water in the loch was frigid. They'd brought along full-body wetsuits to wear, but even so, they limited their time underwater. Currents could be treacherous, and Loch Arkaig was three hundred feet deep in places.
After their swim, they raced to the van and quickly changed into jeans and thick sweaters.
"If no one accosts us, let's go to a pub this evening," Sara suggested. "We can sit by the fire and regale the locals with imaginary tales of our adventures."
"It would be highly enjoyable," Neal agreed. "But I don't think it will accomplish our goal."
They'd already reconnoitered Woodman's estate. The house was built in the Scottish baronial style of the late nineteenth century with an elaborate roofline of turrets and battlements. Casing the entire house was far too risky especially since Sara was with him. Neal hoped for a quick in and out for her first heist.
He reached into his bag for heavier socks. "I'm in awe of the Highlanders," he said. "They're much hardier than me. How they managed to traipse around in kilts without freezing their junk escapes me."
Sara laughed. "In Outlander, the writer doesn't mention anything about the male lead suffering from shrinkage. The heroine is warm in a shawl and floor-length wool gown. It's too bad Mozzie and Diana are no longer writing Arkham Files. We could suggest sending Arkham Neal and Sara back in time to the Highlands."
Neal made a face. "I couldn't do that to Arkham Neal. It's far too violent a period for him."
"But probably not for Arkham Sara," she said. "Don't you find it odd that Mozzie stopped writing the stories?"
"Not really. Between Red Sands and his Doctor Who scripts, he has more writing projects than he has time for. Writing is only one of many ventures on his plate."
"Like finding lost treasures?"
Neal smiled. "Exactly. You'd have better luck convincing Diana to pick up the Arkham Files pen."
Sara shook her head. "She's already started her novel. Trips are now especially attractive. She claims a plane is one of her favorite writing locations."
"Perhaps you should think about picking up the Arkham Files gauntlet," Neal suggested.
"Me?" Sara squeaked. "I've never been much of a writer."
"Neither was Diana, or so she claimed. You should think about it. Arkham Files is the perfect setting to indulge your love of historical romances."
She gave him a knowing look. "It could give us ideas."
"Nothing wrong with that." Neal turned his head, snapping to alert status. "Do you hear a car?"
She stopped towel-drying her hair to peek outside the van. "A Range Rover is heading our way. Looks like we won't go to that pub after all."
#
Sara quickly pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Pretending she was bursting with excitement was the easiest acting job she'd ever have to do. Two men were in the Range Rover. They wore corduroy pants and sweaters. Neither one looked very threatening.
"You'll have to move your camper," the taller of the two said with a strong Scottish accent. "You're on private land."
Right on cue, Sara said, "Neal, we can't leave now! We need to mark the spot first."
Neal turned to the two men. "Could you let us stay for just a couple more hours? Then we promise to leave. I'll be glad to pay a fee for the privilege."
"What's so important about the spot?" the shorter of the two asked. "There are plenty of other locations to access the loch."
Neal hesitated for a moment. "Do you mind my asking whose land we're on? We'll be happy to share the information with them."
"The owner of the estate is Kyle Woodman," the taller of the two explained. "Who are you?"
"Neal Caffrey. This is my wife, Sara Ellis." Neal tossed them a smile guaranteed to make any mark want to believe him. "I expect Mr. Woodman will be just as interested as we are in the treasure."
At the mention of the word treasure, they seized the bait. Now it was simply a matter of reeling them in. Neal refused to divulge any details until they spoke with Woodman. Sara's part was to put the guards at ease by being her charming best.
They'd devised several scenarios based on how belligerent their first contacts were. She was relieved that these two topped the scales of respectability. They could have been local farmers or land stewards of the property. Nothing hinted of them being gang members, and perhaps they weren't. Conceivably Woodman buried his mobster history when he was at his country property.
It was a gamble to use their real names, but Neal thought Phoenix could have mentioned him in discussions with Woodman.
Their stretch goal was to obtain information about Phoenix. Even if Woodman had the painting, he might not be charged with anything. He could claim that he'd purchased it believing it to be a forgery. The painting would be confiscated but Woodman wouldn't have any reason to divulge details about the mastermind. Neal considered their best shot was to wing it and watch for an opportunity.
After a cell phone call presumably to Woodman, their escorts drove them to the estate in their vehicle. The winding road took them through a pine forest and fields. Sara longed to return when the heather was in bloom. This trip had awakened her Gaelic roots and she was determined to nurture them.
They pulled into a gravel drive in front of the turreted mansion. Coming out to greet them was Kyle Woodman himself. Why did he have to look so much like Humphrey Bogart? She reminded herself to stay objective. No matter how intriguing he looked, the man was likely responsible for several murders.
"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Neal said. "We apologize for trespassing on your land."
Woodman didn't appear upset. "No harm done. Come inside. After swimming in the loch, you'd no doubt like to warm up."
A few minutes later, they were sitting in a large salon. The wood-paneled walls and burgundy-upholstered furniture added warmth to the room although Sara could have done without the deer heads mounted on the walls. They reminded her too much of Bambi.
Woodman served single-malt Scotch from Ben Nevis, a local distillery. Sara didn't make the mistake of asking for ice but she cut it with a little water. She hoped the alcohol would add a flush to her face to help sell the con.
"Now, what's this about a treasure?" Woodman asked with the tolerant look of someone addressing small children. A signal their plan to evoke youthfulness was working? That's why she had her hair in a ponytail. Neal had combed his hair down over his forehead to make himself look younger.
"We decided to celebrate the end of the school year by coming to Scotland," he explained. If Woodman knew who he was, he'd understand Neal meant grad school. Otherwise, he might think Neal was an undergrad. "This is Sara's first trip here. She's a MacLeod and wants to learn more about her ancestors. No trip to the Highlands could be complete without a search for Nessie."
"I have a theory that Nessie could have relocated," Sara said, jumping in. "The lack of recent reports for Loch Ness led me to believe that the creature's found a new home. The lochs are connected by rivers and canals. A creature traveling at night could easily travel through them. Nessie could have done it for centuries without being caught in the act. The scenery around Loch Arkaig is so spectacular, if I were her, this is where I'd want to live."
She had Woodman smiling genially. So far so good.
"We told ourselves we'd make one final shot," Neal added barely after Sara had finished her lines. "We've been investigating the shoreline first before heading for deeper waters."
"And that's when we found them!" Sara exclaimed. "Neal, show him!"
Neal pulled out a plastic bag from his jacket. "I only had time to rinse them, but these are gold, I'm sure of it. Look, they're not even tarnished. We figure we happened upon Nessie's hoard!"
Woodman dismissed the notion with a snort. "You're confusing Nessie with Smaug, and I can confirm that there have been absolutely no sightings of dragons in the Highlands for countless centuries. You'll allow me?" He held his hand out, and Neal placed one of the coins in his palm.
Woodman's smile faded as he examined the coin while she and Neal watched eagerly. Neal had taught her that the best con is the one where the mark creates the bait of their own volition. They were dangling the lure. Would he take the next step?
"Where did you find these?" Woodman asked.
"About twenty yards offshore," Neal said. "They were in a niche next to some broken pieces of wood. We want to go back. We may find more."
"Nessie doesn't have a treasure, but you may have lucked upon another," Woodman said. "Have you heard of the Loch Arkaig treasure?"
Neal nodded, his eyes sparkling. "We'd read about the gold destined for the Jacobites before leaving the States. The accepted consensus is that the gold had already been carried off by various parties."
"Instead, if our discovery holds up, it's like Nessie has been protecting it for all these years," Sara exclaimed happily, sounding like a complete airhead.
"I'm not sure what the salvage rights are in Scotland," Neal said. "I believe the government has jurisdiction over the loch, but we'll be glad to share the fame with you. We're not interested in making money off the discovery."
They'd come to the next crossroad. Would Woodman cringe at the thought? He wasn't living here anonymously, but he could be publicity-adverse. Would he offer to partner with them and then try to squeeze them out?
If their hunch about him owning the Renoir was correct, then he could be a hoarder and would want to hold onto the gold for himself. That would lead to riskier outcomes, but they had contingency measures in place.
So far Woodman was being non-committal to Neal's comment. Sara seized the moment. "I'd never been interested in genealogy until this trip. Now I long to learn as much as possible about my MacLeod ancestors. I believe this region formerly belonged to Clan Cameron. Are you related to the Camerons?"
"No, but my wife was." For a moment, his expression softened. "She grew up in Fort William and loved the loch. When this house came on the market, I bought it for her."
Nothing in Neal's expression indicated anything but a polite interest but he must be excited at the confirmation of their theory. Given the connection of the McNally Solitaire to the Camerons, could Woodman have also commissioned that theft?
"The house is beautiful," Neal said. "Your wife must have been thrilled at the purchase. Would you permit us to see a little more of it? The architecture is exceptional."
Woodman didn't need much persuading, and that was also a tell. Neal hadn't been engaged in empty flattery. Sara researched the house before leaving New York. It was widely praised as a magnificent example of the Scottish Baronial style. Woodman had likely received filming requests. Offhand, she could think of several historical romances that could easily be set here.
He only led them to a few of the rooms. She and Neal kept up a steady banter. Many paintings were on the walls. Most were landscapes. Sara only caught a glimpse of one small sunlit room. The mullioned windows had stained glass medallions. Was the Renoir hanging there? Perhaps it had been his wife's parlor.
When they returned to the salon, Woodman said, "I'd like to keep this coin to have it verified."
"Thank you," Neal said promptly. "We wouldn't know who to call on."
"Why don't you stay here overnight? Then tomorrow my men can help you explore the loch further."
"That's very gracious of you," Sara said. "We accept gladly."
"I won't be disrupting your schedule?" Woodman asked. "No one is expecting you?"
"No, we're not due anywhere for a week," she said, continuing to play the innocent airhead.
"If one of your men could give me a lift back to the van, I'll move it," Neal offered.
Woodman gave a nod to the taller of the men who'd acted as their bartender and chauffeur and then slipped his hand inside his tweed jacket, pulling out a Walther gun. "That won't be necessary. You won't need a change of clothes. Oh, and I'll take that other coin off your hands. Neal, you're going to return to the loch tomorrow and show my men the exact location if you want your pretty wife to live. That gold is my property and will remain so."
The other men had pulled out firearms as well, but she and Neal didn't intend to argue. She was unceremoniously hustled into a bedroom on the top floor. The spartan room had minimal furnishings but there was a bathroom. She was warned a guard would be posted outside at all times. The iron grill on the window prevented escape even if she'd wanted to.
She assumed Neal was placed in a similar room. Disappointing but again expected. Woodman had chosen the most probable option and would pay the price. For a few moments, she'd fantasized that the Scottish Bogart would pick the romantic option and escape with a plea bargain. But Woodman showed his true colors. There needed to be a special ugly tartan for mobsters.
She wondered what his wife was like. Had she approved of the lifestyle? What would she have thought of her husband stealing from museums in her memory? This experience wasn't as satisfying as Sara would have liked, but Woodman was no flawed tragic hero. His granddaughter had broken off ties with him. The estate would fall to her someday. Sara hoped she would revitalize it.
Notes: Ardverikie House was my inspiration for Woodman's manor. It's also on a loch, but not Loch Arkaig. I added several pins of it to my Pinterest board.