White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 6

Copycat

"Great, great. Overnight it," Peter told them over the phone and hung up. He swung down in his chair and saw Neal had come back. "I found the painting." He grinned, pleased to found it before the kid for once.

"How did you find it?" Neal seemed baffled. "I found it."

"Where?"

"It was fenced to a textile magnate in Dubai."

"A hotel heiress in Budapest just turned hers in," Peter said.

Two paintings?

"Good news," Jones said as he and Diana came in.

"You found the painting overseas," his pet convict said so sure of himself that Peter knew that he was involved. And that Neal knew that too.

"Scotland yard has it," Diana confirmed, confused by the comment.

"It's also in Dubai and Budapest," Peter said.

"What?" Jones frowned.

"They're forgeries," Neal told them.

"All of them? How do you know?" Diana wanted to know.

"Because customs clamps down when a theft occurs," Peter explained. "The risks of getting the original out are too high."

"But if you make forgeries ahead of time and take them out of the country before the heist, you're in the clear," Neal continued. "Steal the Thayer, leak the theft to the press, then sell the forgeries."

"And the original never leaves the country."

"You've seen this scam before," Diana concluded, sharp as always.

Peter nodded.

"I know someone who—"

"Allegedly," the kid reminded him, and both Jones and Diana smiled.

"—Allegedly pulled it off before. We have a copycat on our hands."

"Who are they copycatting?" Diana asked with a sweet innocent smile.

His pet convict looked like he was about to burst with pride.

"Me."

Peter sighed. The vain Neal was unbearable. Why they had never been able to pin Neal to that scam he had never understood, but it would not work twice.

A few days later all the three paintings were placed on a row in their conference room. Peter had called the curator of the Lamson Gallery over. She gasped when she saw three of the same painting and Peter asked her to deny or confirm for each of them if it was the original or not.

Neal was certain they were all fake. The scam was a perfect copy of one he pulled off himself and when Peter put all the pieces together the traces to him had gone stone cold. He studied the canvases beside miss Jeffries, each for their own point and purpose. Neal had painted his forgeries himself and it was a good chance that the one painting these had arranged for the rest as well.

He held a large photo of the original. Forgeries could never be exact copies. There were always little details that could tell.

"So you've confirmed these are all forgeries?" Peter asked her.

"Yes," she sighed. "All of them."

Neal leaned closer. The color did not match. But why. Someone had done impressive work making three copies and not making the shades right? Up close the image was a matrix of colored dots that on a distance made an even surface, like an old television.