Italian Masquerade

Chapter 2: Operation Checkmate

Neal's loft. Sunday morning.

"Aren't you done?" Henry eyed Neal's stuffed bags. "How much more stuff can you cram inside?"

"Just a couple more shirts," Neal said. Plus the next move in Operation Checkmate. Henry had offered to drive him to the airport. In a few hours, Neal would be on the plane for Parma. He'd already planned to spend time at the National Gallery which has an outstanding collection of Renaissance and Baroque masters. Now he had a second purpose. The museum had promised to remove the Da Vinci from the gallery during the night on Monday. If anyone was tailing him or had access to surveillance cameras, they'd see him spend the day at the museum. The next morning he'd fly to Rome.

"We'll miss you at Christmas," Henry said. "Eric was looking forward to having a buffer from all the relatives."

"Tell Eric he has nothing to worry about. He's already met almost everyone, and his stock is platinum." Neal paused, shirt in hand. "I wish I could attend Richard's birthday party. He told me he'd invited you and Eric. Will you be able to go?"

"Wouldn't miss it. Travis is hosting it at Canaletto's."

Neal spun around. "Isn't that the name of the restaurant we liked at the Venetian Resort in Las Vegas?"

Henry nodded. "A branch recently opened in Manhattan on the Upper East Side. I've yet to try it out."

"I'm doubly sorry I can't attend. You'll have to give me a full review." He turned back to rummage in the drawer. "Now, where's my turtleneck?"

"Which one? I'll help you look." Henry glanced at his watch. "If you want to make the plane, you better step on it."

Neal snapped his fingers. "I remember. It's in the laundry room. I'll be right back." He darted out of the room before Henry could say anything. The laundry room was in the basement. Neal intended Henry to have ample time to search his suitcase. They still had a comfortable margin to get to the airport.

Buried among his shirts was a small zippered nylon bag that contained Matthew, or rather Matthew's hair, a shaggy blond wig Neal had worn whenever he was disguised as Sara's fictitious boyfriend. For months, he and Sara had conned their friends that they were dating Alicia and Matthew, when in reality the two were simply avatars of themselves. A few weeks ago, Sara had deliberately let slip she was meeting Matthew at a restaurant. Neal had worn the wig for the occasion, and he'd observed Henry spying on them. His super-sleuth brother wouldn't be able to resist snooping through Neal's bag.

When Neal returned upstairs, Henry was casually sprawled in a chair arranging the chessmen on the board. "You took a while. I thought I'd have to play chess with myself."

"Devising a new gambit?" It will do you no good. Operation Checkmate is locked and loaded. Henry had been careful, but not careful enough. Neal had left the tab of the zipper up and it was now in the down position. Matthew had been outed.

* * * * *

Henry held his celebratory whoop in check till after he'd dropped Neal off at the airport. It wasn't easy. He'd been consumed by an almost irresistible desire to give Neal a noogie for the con he'd pulled. Henry had been right, after all. For months he'd wondered about the man Sara kept heaping praise on, but she'd always avoided using his surname. That, in itself, was suspicious. It wasn't in vain that he'd spied on Sara and Matthew at a restaurant a few weeks ago. At the time, he'd considered the possibility that it was Neal in disguise, pretending to be Matthew. He should have stuck by his hunch, damn it. He was right.

But why did Neal do it? Sara had first mentioned Matthew last July. Just what kind of con was it? Had Neal talked Sara into the masquerade at the restaurant as a prank because he suspected Henry was checking up on him?