Chapter 3: The Sign of the Smiling Octopus
Amsterdam. Friday, September 14, 2007.
What a high! Diana didn't plan to descend to Earth anytime soon. The sting went off without a hitch. She hadn't yet had a chance to celebrate the win as processing the suspects took most of the night, but she intended to make up for it today.
The thieves took the bait as expected. A crew of six women was arrested. The shocker was that Marta Kolar was one of them. Diana supposed she should have considered Marta a possibility. After all, Rolf's lover had a diamondback rattlesnake tattoo on her lower back. Diana had assumed the snake was linked to Marta's former employer Ydrus, but it appeared to have a second meaning. At long last, this serpent of a jewel thief was heading for prison.
The interrogations were being carried out by a combination of Dutch and Interpol agents, but they'd allowed Diana to participate. The gang members were an interesting group. Aside from Marta, all were South Asian with passports from India, Burma, and Thailand. Diana sensed the youngest was the most likely to crack and had carefully cultivated a Good Cop image with her. The girl was only seventeen. Diana was sure that if she could persuade her to cooperate, she'd get off with a light sentence. Her hunch was paying off. The girl had already provided leads that would be investigated today.
Sara and Neal were probably still asleep. She left them a text message explaining she was going out for breakfast and then would do a little shopping. She'd spotted a store earlier in the week, and ever since it had been calling to her. Who could resist a store called Sea Creatures? The name had even been written in English as if the owner knew she wouldn't be able to translate Zeedieren. Not that she needed to see the name. When she saw the giant smiling octopus on the sign, she knew she had to investigate.
When she opened the shop door, she entered cephalopod heaven. Sculptures, candelabras, chairs, accent tables, wine coolers, jewelry—every item in the store featured a sea creature motif and many of them came with tentacles.
The shop owner was very accommodating and explained shipping costs to the States. The octopus accent table Diana purchased was the easiest sale the woman would ever make.
"You remind me of another of my customers," the owner said with a chuckle. "He also has a discriminating eye. He purchased that chair you were looking at."
Diana paused, stunned by a flash of inspiration. She'd been riding the wave, her superpowers never stronger. Going with her instincts, she asked casually, "He sounds like a dear friend of mine—Rolf Mansfeld."
The owner shook her head slowly. "I don't believe he's a customer but I'll add him to my mailing list if you give me his address."
It was a long shot and she wasn't surprised it didn't pay off. But she shouldn't abandon the idea just yet. Rolf wouldn't use his real name. When the shopkeeper left to help another customer, she returned to the chair they'd both admired. A shipping tag was on it for Anthonie Leeuw. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. She checked the time. At nine-thirty, Neal and Sara should be up. This would bug her until she found out. If Neal didn't recognize the name, it would bug him too.
"Hi, Diana." Neal sounded awake but he was speaking in a whisper.
"Is Sara still asleep?" she whispered back.
"Yeah, we didn't get to bed till three. What's up?"
"Does the name Anthonie Leeuw mean anything to you?" she asked, spelling the surname for him.
"In what context?" he asked, his tone sharper.
When Diana explained where she was and her hunch about Rolf, he said, "That name is suspiciously close to the scientist who was the probable inspiration for two paintings by Vermeer—The Astronomer and The Geographer. The given names are identical. Your mystery octopus lover used the shortened form of the scientist's surname. It just happens to mean Lion."
Diana felt her heart race. The pieces were falling together in front of her eyes. Leonardo, Leopard, Neal's lion cub nickname—they all started with a reference to a lion. Had they been chosen because of this scientist's name? That's what Neal was theorizing, and she agreed.
She could hear Sara's excited voice in the background as Neal put his phone on speaker.
"The address is on the tag," Diana said and read it off to him. "I'm going there now."
"I'll notify the police," Neal said.
"This isn't much to go on for a search warrant," she warned.
"Not normally, but this is an abduction case. The woman in charge of Dutch art crimes was at the workshop I gave. Between her and Hobhouse, I should be able to slice through any red tape. Don't try to approach the house on your own."
"I won't," she promised. She'd left her gun in the hotel safe, worse luck, but she could at least check out the street. A cafe or shop could provide a monitoring location. They hadn't rented a car, and acquiring one now would take too long.
"The house is probably in a residential area," Sara said. "If Rolf is there, he could spot you. He may even know we're in town. I'll meet you at your current location. I always carry disguises for emergencies and one of them will work for you."
Diana reluctantly agreed although she was a taut spring ready to be released. She hoped the excellent relations Neal had curried with the Dutch would pay off in a quick response.
#
When Neal entered the cafe, he spotted Sara and Diana at a table by the window. Diana was wearing a curly gray wig with wire-rimmed glasses. Sara's brunette hair was pulled into a chignon. Her narrow glasses lent a bookish air to her face.
He hadn't attempted to disguise his appearance. There was no longer any need.
"Where are they?" Diana demanded as soon as he sat down.
"The police are staging around the corner," he assured her. "Any minute now they'll approach the house." Thanks to his connections, he'd been able to secure a quick response. Less than two hours had passed since Diana's call. "Have you seen anyone leave the house?"
Sara shook her head. "We chatted with the cafe owner. We told her we were interested in renting an apartment. She knows many of the residents in the area, but hadn't met Leeuw."
Diana drummed her fingers in impatience on the table. "If I drink any more coffee, I won't sleep for a month," she muttered. "Why aren't they moving in?"
"Partly it's my fault," Neal admitted. "The power and cable need to be shut off first. Whether or not Rolf's at home, he undoubtedly has the place under surveillance. We want to prevent him from using a kill switch on his electronics."
The Dutch had only gone along with the request after John personally intervened from London. In Neal's mind, the link was tantalizingly solid. No one had come up with any other leads on Klaus. This was their best—and only—shot.
The four-story house was on a narrow side street in the Museum Quarter. It was made of brick with a gable front. Many of the houses dated back to the seventeenth century. Neal could hear Mozzie's voice in his head expounding on the hiding possibilities in old houses. If this was Rolf's safe house, it could be a treasure cave.
"The police have arrived!" Sara whispered excitedly.
Neal watched with bated breath as three uniformed officers went up the steps to the front door. A police van was parked at the curb. He suspected the Dutch equivalent of SWAT teams were assembled inside.
Diana gnawed her lower lip. "No one's answering the door." She stood up to scan the street. "Barricades are blocking the street. Caffrey, you did a great sales job." Her face was tense. Neal knew she longed to be with the police. So did they all. But at least they had a ringside seat.
As the minutes dragged on, his thoughts returned to Klaus. Was he being held prisoner in that house? Ever since Klaus's disappearance, the memories of the time Neal had spent in Rolf's virtual reality hellhole were a constant presence in his mind. As Doc Jacob had predicted, his recollections weren't as vivid but he hadn't lost them and probably never would.
Was Klaus being subjected to something similar? The doctor who'd manipulated Neal was in prison, but Rolf conceivably could have found someone else.
Sara reached over to clasp his hand under the table. "We'll find Klaus and he'll be all right."
He nodded, grateful for her understanding. This experience had shown him how much Klaus—for better or for worse—was a member of his extended family. Sara had been steadfast in her support for him. Privately she probably had doubts about Klaus but Neal appreciated that she didn't voice them aloud.
#
Neal flinched when his cell phone buzzed. Sara watched anxiously as he answered. It was a good indication of where his mind was.
Henry had spoken with her about Klaus. He and Peter were both concerned. They believed the odds were greater that Klaus had left willingly with Rolf. Her own views were muddled. She was glad nobody forced her to voice an opinion. She could more easily support Neal and Chantal by not expressing any of those doubts.
Neal looked up. "The police said no one's at home. A search hasn't revealed anything suspicious. As you heard, I argued for us to check it out, and they've agreed." He mustered a smile for Diana. "I'm not giving up. The links you discovered are too compelling."
"Good," Sara declared, "because I'm not either. We knew Rolf wouldn't leave his treasures—human or otherwise—out in the open. I'm willing to wager we can find something the police missed. They don't know him like we do."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Diana demanded. "Let's get started." As she stood up, she ripped off her wig, much to the surprise of the customers. "I can't think straight with this wig, and we'll need all our wits to outsmart Rolf."
The house was narrow but there were three floors, an attic, and a basement to search. The power had been reconnected so they didn't have to stumble in the dark. As a precautionary measure, dampening equipment was used to prevent any Wi-Fi signals from being sent or received.
The furnishings were comfortable and anonymous. Nothing to arouse suspicion.
Diana frowned as she surveyed the living room. "Something's missing."
Neal spun around. "What aren't you seeing?"
"Where are the octopus accessories he's been collecting?" she asked. "The shopkeeper said Leeuw is one of her best customers. Has anyone found a squid, an octopus, even a jellyfish?"
While the Dutch detective in charge conferred with the agents, Sara checked the kitchen. She couldn't even find an octopus coffee mug. The inescapable conclusion was that somewhere in the house was lurking a cephalopod cave. Neal had told her that octopuses were known to claim pirate chests for themselves because they were attracted to shiny objects. What were they guarding here?
Diana's challenge lit a fire under the Dutch agents. Everyone began searching for hidden panels or doorways.
Neal took off for the basement and Sara followed him. The space was filled with old furniture and contained a laundry room. On the surface nothing revealing.
"This is the most promising location for a hidden entrance," Neal told her.
"Why do you think so?"
"Rolf would need plenty of room to hold his paintings and any other acquisitions. Since we haven't found any electronics, he probably also has a hidden office. If he built it underground he'd have much more space to work with." Neal frowned as his eyes darted from surface to surface. "He could be here even now, hiding in the house, waiting till we leave. Surveillance cameras could be hidden so expertly in light fixtures, we'd have to take them apart to find them."
"If there's a hidden door, we'll find it," Sara said confidently even as the task appeared daunting. Were those heavy pieces of furniture deliberately put in place to conceal an opening? She retrieved her flashlight and started on the wall next to the staircase.
Diana came down a few minutes later and Neal explained his idea. She joined the search. Minutes passed as they each focused on a different section of the basement.
"What are you doing, Caffrey? Looking for a mousehole?"
Sara turned at the sound of Diana's voice. Neal was on his hands and knees by the baseboard of one wall.
"In a way," he said. "I remembered that in the New Jersey house where Peter and I were held captive, Rolf had installed a switch along a baseboard. It was virtually impossible to see. I discovered it by touch."
"You think he might have used the concept before," Sara suggested, growing excited.
Neal nodded as he sneezed. They were raising a lot of dust in their search. "Most hidden switches are higher up where they're more convenient, but that also makes them easier to detect." He froze and broke into a grin. "I found it!"
"Don't use it yet," Sara cautioned. "The police need to be here. If our rat is hiding inside, he won't be happy to see us."
Diana laughed as she headed upstairs. "That rat is about to be snared by a vengeful octopus."
Sara examined the switch while they waited for the agents. It was in a narrow gap between the baseboard and the wall. If Neal's fingers weren't slender, he wouldn't have been able to manipulate it. She suspected Rolf had a metal tool to simplify the task.
Once the Dutch agents were in place, Neal pressed the switch. At first, nothing happened. After an anxious couple of seconds, a triangular section of plasterboard under the staircase began to slide away.
Neal swallowed, his face turning pale. His expression made Sara wonder how many ghosts from past ordeals were haunting him. Normally, he'd be excited to explore what was most likely a treasure cave, but not this time. And the difference was Klaus. In the pitch-black darkness of the gaping opening, it was easy to imagine a horrific sight awaiting them.
Two Dutch agents entered first, followed by Neal. She and Diana were right behind him. They were all using flashlights. Diana took one look and exclaimed, "We've found Lovecraft's library!" But Neal went straight to a figure lying on a bed in one corner. They'd found Klaus.
Neal let out his breath in a ragged exhale while the detective in charge grabbed her phone and called for what Sara presumed was the Dutch equivalent of EMS.
"Is he . . .?" Sara asked, not daring to put her fears into words.
"Unconscious but still alive!"
Klaus had disappeared seven days ago. He appeared to have about a week's growth of beard. He was in a t-shirt and sleep pants. IVs were attached to his wrists. Had Rolf found someone to replace Penfold? Perhaps Penfold had an assistant no one knew about.
Sara squeezed Neal's shoulder. "Klaus will recover. Rolf wouldn't want to destroy his own brother."
Neal shook his head. "He's a psychopath," he said bleakly. "I wouldn't put anything past him."
Someone found a light switch. Sara gasped at the art on the walls.
"Neal, look!" It was a sign of the strain he was under that she had to prod him.
"The Geographer!" The worry on his face lessened a little. "I'd hoped we'd find it."
"And not only that," she said. "Check the adjoining wall."
He swiveled to see what had made her gasp. Rolf didn't just have one Vermeer. He also possessed what was currently valued as the most expensive painting in the world—The Concert. That Vermeer had been stolen during the Gardner Museum heist in Boston in 1990. Sterling-Bosch was the insurer. The work had a listed value of $250 million.
"In my mind, this proves Rolf was responsible for the heist," Neal said, staring at the Vermeer. "This also supports the theory that he sold the Rembrandts we confiscated from the Czech mobster. We may find the other stolen works from the Gardner somewhere in his bolt-hole."
Sara nodded. "We suspected Rolf was involved in criminal activity before Klaus began working as a thief. I'd say this proves it." She nodded to the elaborate computer workstation along the wall. "Hopefully his files will provide additional confirmation."
#
Klaus slowly opened his eyes and blinked.
"Welcome back," Neal said softly in German, standing beside his bed.
Klaus stared at him. "Neal, why are you here?" His eyes widened as he looked around the hospital room. "Where am I?" The monitors began to beep faster.
"Relax. You're safe in a hospital in Amsterdam."
"You look exhausted," Klaus grumbled. "What time is it?"
Neal glanced at the clock. "A little after two o'clock in the morning. Sara's here too. She's catching some shuteye in the lounge. How do you feel?"
"I've been better, but not too bad. Amsterdam, you said?"
"Yeah, what's the last thing you remember?"
Klaus reached for the water mug. Neal needed to help him hold it. Klaus glanced at his shaking hands and winced. "Rolf did this to me?"
"That's what it looks like, but we haven't captured him. There are guards outside your door."
"He came to see me in Paris on the seventh of September." He paused to give a bitter chuckle. "Claimed he wanted to wish me a happy birthday. He rang the bell to the apartment. Chantal was out shopping in the markets. I was getting ready to go to work. When I saw him, I tried to make him think I was delighted to see him. That I'd conned you and Peter to arrange for my release. I guess I didn't pull it off. Cons are your strength, not mine."
"Remind me to sign you up for one of my boot camps," Neal teased. Klaus's voice was sounding stronger, but he didn't attempt to sit up straighter.
"I hope that's a promise." Klaus paused to drink some water. "Rolf seemed to believe me. He had a car waiting. We drove to a house on the western outskirts of Paris. I knew I had to do something to make him believe I was on his side. I told him about the microchip, but he acted like he already knew."
"This is Rolf we're talking about. He or an associate could have hacked into Marcel's files and found out about it."
Klaus frowned. "You must have thought I removed it deliberately."
Neal shook his head. "No one was making rash assumptions. Travis warned us that Rolf theoretically could have developed a jammer to block the signal."
"Had he?"
"No. The microchip was removed. Whoever did it knew what they were doing. Your armpit wasn't mangled."
"Rolf opened a bottle of champagne to toast our freedom. I had a couple of sips and that's the last thing I remembered." Klaus rubbed his beard. "How long was I a captive?"
"A week. Today's September 14, correction the morning of September 15."
"What did he do to me?" Klaus asked bleakly.
"We found you in Rolf's safe house in the Museum District. You were being kept sedated with an IV solution. The doctors haven't found any injuries."
"I wonder how long Rolf would have kept me like that," Klaus mused.
"I suspect he was waiting for a doctor to arrive to perform some sort of psychological manipulation. We know that's Rolf's preferred method. You were brought to the hospital about fifteen hours ago. The doctors have been waiting for the drugs to be washed from your system. Based on the amount in your bloodstream, they think you were about due for another dose."
"I gather you didn't capture Rolf?"
"No, we'd staked out the house for a couple of hours before entering but there's been no sign of him."
Klaus nodded slowly, his expression growing uneasy. "How much trouble am I in?"
Neal was glad he could give him a reassuring smile. "None. You're the toast of Interpol Art Crimes! You weren't the only item of value in the safe house."
Klaus's face brightened. "The Geographer?"
Neal nodded. "And The Concert. Rolf was involved with the Gardner heist. There were several other pieces recovered from the theft at the Boston museum, including a French imperial eagle finial. Why would he have something like that except as a trophy?"
Neal turned his head at the sound of a soft knock. Sara cracked the door open. "I heard voices. Klaus, I'm glad to see you're looking so well!" She was being kind. Klaus looked like he'd been through the grinder but his smile was confident and he sat up straighter at the sight of her.
"You have visitors," Sara added, opening the door wider. Chantal rushed in, followed by Marcel.
"You're awake!" Chantal said, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Please, don't cry," Klaus urged, reaching out to her. "I'm fine."
"You've been missed," Marcel said. "Everyone at the office is looking forward to your quick return." He nodded to the door, and Neal and Sara followed him so Chantal and Klaus could have privacy.
They withdrew to the small family room across the hall that had been set aside for their use. Neal wasn't surprised to see them. He'd been keeping in touch throughout the day. "Klaus awoke a few minutes ago," he said and reviewed what Klaus remembered.
"Was Rolf wearing a disguise when he went to see Klaus?" Sara asked.
"Not much of one. He'd colored his hair gray and wore a beard."
"You're worried where he will strike next?" Marcel prompted.
Neal nodded. "The therapist who's working with us is convinced Rolf's mental health is deteriorating. He shows the classic signs of a psychopath. All those who are connected with his case need to be on guard, and that includes you."
"We're installing security cameras on Chantal's building," Marcel said. "That will help. She intends to stay in Amsterdam until Klaus is well enough to return to Paris. What are your plans?"
"We're staying through the weekend to help process Rolf's bolt-hole," Sara said. "That will also give us more time to investigate leads from the diamond sting."
Marcel smiled. "I heard about the airport operation. Congratulations!"
"Thank you! It's been quite a week."
"Is Marta Kolar talking yet?" Marcel asked.
"No, and I doubt she will." Sara winced. "She has no real reason to. No one wants to cut a deal with her. Fortunately, some of the other members of the gang are more reasonable."
"We hope to learn much more in the coming days," Neal said. "Duplicates of the computer files have been sent to Travis and Aidan who will supervise processing them."
He hoped somewhere buried in those files were the leads to finally bring Rolf to justice. Until then, no one was safe. The FBI was coordinating extra protection for Peter and El. They were considered particularly vulnerable. Neal was convinced the Russian mafia was still helping Rolf and they had a robust presence in New York.