The Mirror

Chapter 4: Knight to King's Bishop 3

Federal Building. February 15, 2005. Tuesday morning.

Peter arrived at work, still feeling a glow from the previous evening. Yesterday was an auspicious start to the adventures of the noted archaeologist Peter Gilman and his neurologist wife.

When he entered the bullpen, Neal was already working at his desk. He stood up when he saw Peter approach. "How was Donatella's?"

"It fully lived up to my high expectations."

"That's good." Neal's smile stopped short of his eyes. "There's something we need to discuss. Do you have the time?"

"Sure. Come on up. We have an hour before the morning briefing's due to start." When they entered his office, Neal closed the door behind him and didn't take a seat but stood leaning against the door.

"What's on your mind?" Peter asked, removing his coat.

"Keller's in town."

Peter wheeled around to stare at him. "How do you know this?"

"He was waiting for me in the student lounge when I left my seminar yesterday evening."

No wonder Neal looked tense. Peter had never investigated a case involving the man but had researched him when Neal referred to Keller during his confession to gain immunity. Keller was bad news. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I considered it," he admitted. "But on Valentine's Day? There's nothing you could have done last night."

"Did you talk with him? Find out why he was there?"

Neal nodded. "He's planning a job. I don't have any details yet, but I have our conversation recorded on my watch."

In one of the measures they'd adopted last month after Azathoth reemerged on the scene, Neal and Peter wore watches with enhanced recording and GPS capabilities. This was the first demonstration of their usefulness. "Keller's appearance at Columbia was clearly not an accident. He intended to meet you." Peter paused to consider the implications. "How much does he know about your present situation?"

"A lot." Neal walked over to the window and looked down at the plaza in front of the building. Turning around, he said, "Remember when I thought someone was following me in SoHo? It was Keller. He knows I work at the FBI—he accused me of flipping. I told him I'd worked out a deal to avoid going to prison. I think he bought it. He knows I'm a grad student, what courses I take, where I live. He knows I fence ..." He fell silent for a moment before he added, "He knows about Fiona."

Damn. Peter was now officially stressing as much as Neal. "How did you play it?"

"The last time we saw each other, we didn't part on friendly terms. There's no point in pretending we're buddies, but that doesn't mean I'd refuse to work with him. He wouldn't give me any details. He said he'll contact me later. The question isn't how I played it last night but how do you want me to handle it going forward. Do you want me to turn him down or let him recruit me?"

Neal's face had hardened into a look far removed from his normal self. Keller must have really gotten to him. Peter reviewed in his mind what he remembered of Keller's crimes. Arms smuggling, thefts of antiquities, Krugerrands, jewels, art. He operated primarily in Europe. A recent Interpol report linked him to the theft of a gold shipment in Russia. To Peter's knowledge, he'd never done a job in New York. Whatever Keller was planning must be lucrative enough to make it worth the risk.

"I can't answer that yet," Peter said, "and I know you don't expect me to. Before any decision is reached, you have to tell me everything you know about him. No holding back. This can't be like Mansfeld. I need to know upfront all the hidden gotcha's and ticking time bombs."