Chapter 4: Night at the Museum
Neal and Henry arrived in Saint Petersburg early on Saturday morning. There'd be no time for sightseeing as they intended to return to Prague on Sunday. They spent most of the day at the Hermitage. Henry's task was to surreptitiously use a device invented by Travis to locate cameras and sensors while they strolled through the collection. The electronics were concealed in what appeared to be an ordinary pair of glasses. Neal knew they had to limit their time in the Rembrandt Gallery to avoid attracting attention, but what visitor wouldn't want to spend at least an hour in the gallery?
When he arrived at his forgery, he focused on the essentials. The frame was identical. The placement on the wall next to the alcove containing The Return of the Prodigal Son was the same. But this was his work, not Raphael's. To him, it blared I don't belong here! He was shocked at the violence of his reaction.
As usual, a crowd stood in front of the painting of the prodigal son. He looked at it with fresh eyes. Henry had smoothed the way for him to reunite with the Caffreys. In Neal's case, did he have a prodigal father? James was back in WITSEC but they'd had a chance for reconciliation and a fresh understanding of each other. Chantal had aided Klaus's rapprochement with his parents and his youngest brother. As for Rolf, he'd carved out his own destiny and Neal didn't see a happy ending in his future.
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Henry stared into the dark tunnel and grimaced. Neal was happy as a mole, gleeful at the prospect of entering the bowels of Saint Petersburg. But not him. Uttering a silent prayer to ward off the ghost of Rasputin and any other vengeful spirits, Henry plunged into the darkness after him.
Their night at the museum had an auspicious start. The Saint Petersburg metro was gorgeous—much more elegant than Henry had expected. Unfortunately, he only had a few minutes to enjoy the setting, before Neal raised a manhole cover and beckoned for him to plunge inside.
This brought back too many memories of when Henry went into the Columbia University tunnel system to rescue Neal. At least this time, Neal wasn't delirious. And Henry gave Neal points for making it look easy. Finding out the guards' uniforms hadn't changed during the intervening years was a lucky break.
Klaus had stashed guards' uniforms for himself and Neal in a cubbyhole in a service tunnel five years ago, and they were still there. Henry was the same height as Klaus and the clothes fit him well. It was like he was destined to take Klaus's part. He was tempted to call it a backscratch, using Neal's expression.
Klaus had filled in for Henry in Europe when Henry was out of the picture, acting as Neal's mentor and protector. Neal had usurped that role for himself during this heist, but Henry intended to grab it back as soon as the job was done.
Klaus had reviewed in meticulous detail the route between the old service tunnel and an opening in the basement of the museum. If Neal was caught, Henry was under orders to flee the scene. He hadn't argued the point, but he was determined that scenario wouldn't come to pass.
The thirty-minute trek through the tunnel was best glossed over. The darkness was total. Without Travis's night-vision goggles, they would have been sunk. Travis had refined them with infrared detectors so that once they were close to the museum, they'd know if anyone was on the other side before they lifted the heavy base plate into the basement.
They entered the museum through an old sewer pipe in a maintenance area. Klaus had explained the Hermitage made use of audio sensors so they used nudges and gestures to communicate.
Whenever they picked up an infrared heat source, they dove for cover. This was a high-stakes adrenaline rush unlike any he'd ever experienced. He kept reminding himself he wasn't in a video game, and the penalty box would be incarceration in a Siberian gulag.
When Henry saw two heat signatures ahead, he froze and grabbed Neal's shoulder. Sure, they were small but they could be attack dogs.
Neal broke into a grin and pulled out a bag of catnip.
Henry kept his groan to himself. Tricked by the Hermitage cats. In his defense, he hadn't realized they were in this area. Klaus told him sixty cats roamed the basement in a tradition dating back to the eighteenth century when they were used to control mice.
Neal sprinkled a little catnip on the floor when they caught up to the cats. Gifts from our pride to yours.
Were those cats their lucky charms? At the very least, they indicated that cats were welcome. So when a lion and a tiger snuck into the galleries a little later, they didn't have to expend any of their nine lives. At two o'clock in the morning, not many guards were around. Surveillance cameras weren't as much of an issue as Henry had initially feared. Neal told him museums relied mainly on sensors connecting each painting to the wall.
They'd already located the cameras along their route. To avoid them, Henry needed to copy Neal's precise movements. It was a workout he hoped he wouldn't have to repeat any time soon. When they approached their target gallery, he wasn't able to enter it. His snake slithers and acrobatic tumbles couldn't compare with Neal's.
If he'd had a tiger tail, he'd be flicking it in frustration as he watched Neal enter the Rembrandt gallery. He was reduced to imagining Neal's actions. He'd first attach a second sensor to the wall so that when the first one was interrupted a signal wouldn't be sent. Once the painting was detached, he'd work quickly to switch panels. He'd then place his forgery in a custom backpack under his guard's jacket.
Only once did Henry have to alert him to a guard. The gallery was thoughtfully provided with partitions where he could hide till the guard passed.
After Henry had spent a seemingly interminable length of time lurking in the shadows, Neal returned, an ecstatic grin on his face. Henry let out his breath in a slow whoosh. The original was back where it belonged, and Neal's conscience could rest easy.
Burke Townhouse. Sunday, July 22, 2007.
El watched as Sara carefully positioned a shelf liner in a kitchen drawer. "All these years you've claimed to have no talent in the kitchen," El teased. "At last, I discovered where you shine."
Sara chuckled. "This hardly counts! I'll gladly arrange your utensils. Just don't ask me to make anything with them."
The carpenters had completed the cabinetry work earlier in the week. Sara offered to come over to line them and store the kitchen items away. Peter would soon be back from running errands. Until then El was glad to have an opportunity for girl talk.
Sara had restricted her to directing where the items should be placed and, after a halfhearted protest, El happily relented. With the baby's due date less than a month away, she felt huge and awkward.
"When will you leave for Paris?" she asked. Klaus and Chantal were to be remarried at the end of the month.
"Next Saturday, assuming the case is finished," Sara said. "The wedding is set for Monday, July 30. We'll return the next day. Chantal also invited June, Henry, and Eric. They'll fly with us."
Chantal had gotten to know them when she was in the States for Neal and Sara's wedding. Henry had been particularly helpful, facilitating her meetings with Klaus. "That's only a week away," El noted. "Did she and Klaus take a cue from you two?"
El had never gotten the full details of Alex's kidnapping and the amber music box. She hadn't even realized that Neal and Sara participated in a sting so close to their nuptials until Peter told her the evening of the party at Riffs—a scant two days before the wedding. Now Neal and Henry were in Prague with Klaus. Did they consider the upcoming wedding good motivation?
"I'd wondered about that," Sara admitted with a chuckle. "But I love their reason. Their first wedding was on that same day in 1999. They'd like to have the same wedding anniversary, and this time no evil brother will mess it up."
"Are many people invited?"
"Less than fifty—mainly relatives. André Renard, Neal's former fencing instructor will be there. So will Marcel Jauffret, Klaus's boss."
"What are you giving Chantal and Klaus?"
"Neal did a painting for them."
"I thought he might. What's the subject?"
"I'll bring it over for you to see. Chantal and Klaus are sitting at one of the tables in front of her bistro. Chantal's cat is sitting on the third chair. The painting is charming." Sara smiled. "And Neal signed it with a flourish."
When Sara's phone started playing Carly Simon's "It's the Right Thing to Do," her expression turned radiant. "That's Neal!"
"You'll probably want some privacy," El said. "Feel free to use the living room."
"Thanks," Sara said gratefully as El increased the volume of the music on the radio.
She'd noticed that Sara seemed a little on edge. Understandable with Neal on an undercover assignment. Peter hadn't told her much about it except that it concerned the pinprick forgeries. She hoped he didn't wish he could be there with Neal and Henry.
When would Neal and Sara feel in a stable enough situation to have kids? When El thought about how long it took her and Peter—and they didn't begin to have the complications Sara and Neal did—she wouldn't be surprised if they held off for several more years.
Both Sara and Neal had mentioned eventually wanting a family, the key word being eventually.
She clasped her hands over her belly and smiled. Would Baby Caffrey be as patient as Baby Burke had been?
An hour earlier. Prague.
Klaus flung open the door of the apartment. "At last! Come inside. I don't care how dangerous it was for you, nothing can compare with having to sit and wait for news!"
Neal laughed. "You sound exactly like Peter. You can relax. I had a great teacher." He nodded at Henry. "And a superb probie. The outcome of this heist was a foregone conclusion."
"Maybe to him," Henry said. "I nearly had a heart attack about Dobermans in the basement."
Klaus's face split into a wide smile. "Neal pulled the cat trick on you!"
"Well, yeah," Neal said, faking a stern expression. "It was Henry's induction into museum heists. I couldn't deny him the pleasure."
"I bet he didn't freak out as much as you did," Klaus joshed.
"I'm sure I was worse," Henry said.
Neal smiled as he removed the Rembrandt from his backpack. This was a time for jokes. They'd emerged unscathed and rescued his painting. He didn't think it was just his imagination that the man in the portrait was looking a tad happier.
"The heist went off without a glitch," Henry added. "You prepared me well. Any news from Phoenix?"
"Phoenix wired funds for a trip to Nicosia. Our client lives in Cyprus. I told him we could leave tomorrow."
Neal nodded. Are you up for a con? he asked the man in the portrait.
"As long as I don't stay with the client. I'm coming home with you."
"Neal?" Henry asked hesitantly. "Any concerns?"
"He's just conferring with the painting," Klaus explained and turned to Neal. "Did the man agree?"
"We made a bargain," Neal said. "We'll do this con then he's coming home for a long rest."
"Please extend my apologies for the long con he was forced to run," Klaus said.
"Masquerading as a genuine Rembrandt? Now that he's home safe, he's looking forward to filling me in on the stories."
Henry listened to the exchange with an amused expression. "I know Neal holds conversations with his paintings. Klaus, I didn't realize you do too."
Klaus smiled at the portrait. "Only the special ones."
