Raphael's Dragon

Chapter 4: He Sails No More

With Mozzie resting at Janet's apartment, Neal was ready to celebrate one less mystery in his life. When he reported to work on Wednesday, he expected to spend most of the day in the surveillance van. And Peter wouldn't hear a word of complaint.

Little did he realize this would be a day for the record books. April 20, 2005. The day the Dutchman sailed no more.

For a man who had eluded authorities for close to two decades, the ending went remarkably smoothly. The surveillance team in the van spotted Hagen entering the Met at 11:05 a.m. They contacted the tailing team who tracked him throughout the museum. When Hagen exited the Met, he was followed to a warehouse in East Harlem.

Peter and Neal left to join the field unit when they heard the news. Their plans had been made well in advance. Peter was conducting it as a stealth operation to minimize the chance of leaks. Agents didn't wear their standard FBI jackets and the vans were unmarked. Jones had already procured the necessary warrant.

Neal waited with Agent Badillo in one of the vans while the team broke into the warehouse. Listening to the action on earphones was frustrating, but Peter was adamant. No gun, no participation. Even so, he didn't have long to wait. Hagen was taken completely by surprise and was captured without a single shot being fired.

When Neal arrived, Hagen and a couple of workers were already being cuffed, protesting vehemently all the while. Peter had a broad smile on his face as Diana read Hagen his rights. Neal had never met the man. His rumpled appearance was disappointing. This was the master forger who'd eluded the FBI for decades? He didn't look like he deserved the title.

Peter walked over to Neal, still beaming. "I don't smoke, but if I had a cigar right now, I'd light it."

"And I'd join you, but not yet. Do you know what this piece of equipment is?" He pointed to a machine in the center of the space.

Peter took a closer look. "Printing press?"

Neal nodded, slipping on latex gloves. "Hagen must have been working on something other than paintings." He examined the press. It had been inked but there was no paper or plate in place. A stack of blank paper was on a table near the press.

Neal headed for the art studio Hagen had set up in the back of the workspace. He'd been working at the easel when he was surprised. His hands were smudged with paint and there were opened tubes of paint by the palette. On the easel was a half-completed St. George and the Dragon. Somewhat surprising. Neal had assumed Hagen was in town on a new commission, but he was continuing to make forgeries on the side. He must not have been able to resist the easy money. Would Travis find evidence of sales on his computer?

Neal strode over to a large safe in the corner of the studio. It was an older model with a straightforward lock. Neal glanced over in Peter's direction. He and Jones were talking about the painting on the easel.

A couple of minutes later, Neal walked over to join them. "That safe in the corner? The door is cracked open. No harm in checking out the interior, is there?"

"Why none at all." If Peter had noticed Neal standing close to the safe, he didn't let on. Neal let Peter have the honor of swinging the door open. There it was on the central shelf. Neal's breath quickened when he saw it. Peter turned to him and said, "Care to take it out?"

Neal slipped his hands under the painting to remove it from the shelf. He felt like he was carrying the Holy Grail. Was this the original? Peter cleaned off a space on Hagen's desk and spread out a clean cloth for Neal to lay the painting on. Neal bent over to examine it, and Peter didn't say a word, letting him take as long as he wanted.

"It looks good," Neal said, savoring the feeling. "We'll need to run it through all the tests, but I bet we rescued Saint George."

Jones helped Neal clean out the rest of the safe's contents. Several thousand in cash, passports—those didn't particularly interest him, but there was something else that did. On the middle shelf was a document set in an archival protective frame. Neal pulled it out and placed it alongside the painting on the desk.