The Woman in Blue

Chapter 3: Light and Dark

Burke Townhouse. Sunday, September 19, 2004.

El returned home on Sunday evening. While she unpacked, Peter reviewed Mansfeld's case file on the dining room table. From the sounds emanating from the bedroom, he could tell Satchmo was overjoyed to have his mistress back. He was almost as happy as Peter. He'd prepared a pot roast for dinner. She was very complimentary, although she probably would have been equally effusive over anything he managed to pull together. Perhaps it was time to invest in a cookbook for clueless husbands.

He went into the kitchen to fetch a beer. When he returned, he found El standing in front of his laptop. 

"Is this the Leopard?" she asked, studying the file photo.

"That's right. How does he strike you?"

"The women of New York better watch out. He looks like a German Brad Pitt." Quirking a smile at Peter's grimace, she added, "Why is he called the Leopard?"

"From the business card he sometimes leaves behind. The card's imprinted with the image of a leopard on a tree branch. There's no accompanying text."

El sat down next to him at the table. "Is Neal in trouble because he didn't mention him during his confession?"

"I don't think so. Hughes will be so excited at the thought of catching the Leopard, he won't be concerned about what Neal omitted in his confession."

El reached over and stroked his forehead. "Then what's causing those worry lines?"

Peter took a breath as he gathered his thoughts. "Neal's offered to do what every agent dreads most—take down a friend. I don't think he understands how difficult it will be. The other problem with the case is the length of time he'll stay with Mansfeld. Neal will be in the same house. He'll need to maintain his cover the entire time. He's an expert but even so that may be asking too much. And then there's the very real possibility he may fall back under Mansfeld's—or should I say 'Brad Pitt's'—spell. Want me to go on?"

"No, I get the idea. How do you plan to counteract that?"

"We're keeping in touch through his classes at Columbia. Mansfeld's allowing him to attend, and we'll take full advantage of that. Those classes are the only relief he's going to have from the con and our only means to communicate with him."

"They're also your best chance to balance all those mind games you're worried about."

"Right, but as you well know, psychological games aren't my strength. Any suggestions?"

"Try to lighten the atmosphere whenever you can. That will help reduce Neal's stress. Remind him of all those who care about him on the other side. Don't let the dark side seduce him away."

"Dark side, how'd you know?" Peter said with a chuckle. "Neal talked about going after stormtroopers. Even referred to me as Han."

El laughed. "Running a con is similar to acting. Now that I'm a member of a community theater group, I've noticed a change in how I tackle a challenging situation. When I'm catering an event for someone I don't like, I imagine the person to be a character in a movie or a play, and it makes the experience much more enjoyable. I bet Neal had a very difficult time convincing himself to go after a friend, so he's recasting it." She paused and tilted her head as she studied him. "Neal may be on to something. I can picture you as Han Solo. You do have a bit of the scoundrel under that FBI exterior."

Peter drew her close. "I think I like the sound of that. Interested in a little acting practice, Leia?" Neal would have to manage on his own till their first chance to meet.

Mansfeld Townhouse. Monday morning.

Neal lounged in bed, reveling in the seductive feel of the silk sheets. He'd stayed up late last night painting and was in no hurry to get up. Klaus's townhouse was luxurious beyond measure. Antiques, art—how much time and money had been spent furnishing it? The place reminded him of Klaus's home in Geneva. Neal had never experienced luxury on the princely scale Klaus indulged in. But he quickly adapted. And now it was back, handed to him on a gold platter.