Unholy Alliance

Chapter 1: Double Vision

Hotel Room in Washington, D.C.

"I don't get it," Mozzie said as he sat down next to Neal on the sofa. "The theft went off without a hitch. Saint George and the Dragon is now securely stowed in the hidden compartment of your backpack. We'll leave for Paris tonight. Why aren't you floating on a cloud?"

Neal winced. Mozzie knew him too well. "It just doesn't feel right."

"What doesn't?"

Neal waved a hand vaguely around the room. "This. What we did. Where we're going."

How to explain his unease? Mozzie was right. They'd planned the heist in meticulous detail for over a month and executed it flawlessly. This was the first time he'd stolen anything from the National Gallery of Art. He should be over the moon. Why wasn't he?

"Did you hear something from Kate?" Mozzie challenged.

"No, nothing." He'd designed the theft with her in mind. Raphael was her favorite artist, and the painting was meant to be a present. Maybe that was why he wasn't exhilarated. His subconscious was preparing him to be rejected once more.

"We should go to Milan instead," Neal said. "I bet Kate has already left Paris to attend Fashion Week there."

"Okay. I can switch our flight. Have you given any thought to my suggestion?"

"Which one?"

Mozzie frowned. "You know which one. Klaus. This is the perfect time to mend fences. Geneva's a short flight from Milan. We could stop on the way."

Neal shook his head. "It's too late. I can't go back now." It was telling he didn't use Kate as the reason not to reconnect with his former mentor. Was it because he already knew she didn't love him? She'd probably take the Raphael and then leave him high and dry.

"It's never too late," Mozzie said breezily. "You already admitted you're no longer positive Klaus killed the guard in Berlin. You, of all people, should know how incorrect assumptions can be."

Neal could hear the longing in Mozzie's voice. He placed Klaus on a pedestal even higher than the one for Gordon Taylor. Mozzie was the only friend Neal had left. The least he could do was to go along with his wishes.

Klaus and Chantal had gladly included Neal as a member of their family when no one else wanted him. Would they accept him back? The prodigal son who'd seen the error of his ways? Since Mozzie was with him, maybe. Everyone loved Mozzie.

"I know what it is," Mozzie said gloomily. "I never should have let you sneak into that nexus of evil—Winston-Winslow."

"You shouldn't be so harsh on them."

"Shouldn't I?" Mozzie countered darkly. "Robert Winslow works there, and his corruption is on a par with Adler. He's in line to be CEO. His particular brand of poison is already spreading through the company. Your cousin Henry should flee while he can."

Neal didn't answer. He wasn't about to defend Henry's father. Four years ago, Robert had blackmailed him into fleeing to Europe. If Neal were ever to approach Henry, Robert would give the feds evidence of Neal having forged a bond. Up to now, no one had hard proof of his crimes. And it wasn't just Neal who was in danger. Henry could suffer as well.

Still, how could he resist trying to see Henry before leaving the country?

Since Neal had lost all his money in Adler's Ponzi scheme, his pockets needed to be replenished. Europe and Asia had the most potential. Africa was intriguing. Burma beckoned. Anywhere far away from Robert.

For the past several months, Neal had lived in New York. It was starting to feel like home and he'd miss it. Teasing the White Collar agent Peter Burke had become an addictive pleasure. But the only real tie linking Neal to the States was Henry. Even though they rarely saw each other, he knew that Henry would somehow find a way to help him if he was in trouble.