Neal's loft. Tuesday afternoon. June 29, 2004.

After a few hours' sleep and a late lunch, Neal contacted Mozzie. Waiting for his friend to arrive, Neal went downstairs to the music room. The Urban Legend con required that he stay in practice, and he played some of Miranda's new songs on the piano. Then he tried one of the Celtic tunes he'd heard in Las Vegas, but wasn't satisfied with his performance. He needed to hear a new song a few times before he could play it by ear. Mozzie's arrival was a welcome interruption.

Normally Mozz would want to go upstairs to Neal's apartment, away from the staff in June's mansion, but the scent of fresh-baked cake wafted from the kitchen and he told Neal they needed to investigate. Emil the chef submitted good-naturedly to Mozzie's questions about the ingredients, assuring Mozz that there was no dairy. Then he mentioned the cake was sweetened with applesauce. "The youngest granddaughter, she doesn't tolerate sugar too well," he explained. "I've been experimenting with alternatives."

Emil offered slices of cake and recommended a hard apple cider to accompany it, and next thing Neal knew they were in the dining room and Mozzie was talking about the evils of refined sugar and the benefits of applesauce and honey. He had a lot to say about honey and bees.

Neal listened until he had finished his piece of cake and then interjected, "That's very interesting, Mozz, but the reason I called was to figure out how Henry stays connected while also staying off the grid."

That got Mozzie's attention. He considered himself an expert at staying off the grid. "What have you learned?"

"He's living on boats. Sailboats, yachts, vessels owned by his family. He must need to fly sometimes, but whenever he's in a boat he has no hotel charges, doesn't have to show ID to travel from one marina to the next. It's ideal, except I'm sure he wants to get immediate updates from whoever's helping him, and when he gets away from shore there aren't cell towers. How does he make sure he keeps in contact with his accomplice?"

"Satellite," Mozzie said. "It's common in larger boats like cruise ships and cargo ships, and it's becoming available for smaller boats, too. Eventually you'll even have satellite telephones. And unlike cellular communications, the government overlords aren't harvesting satellite communications yet. There's still the possibility of privacy."

Neal nodded. Winston-Winslow liked to stay abreast of the latest technologies, especially if data or communications were involved. It would be a safe bet that they were on the cutting edge of satellite technology, and that the Winslows would have installed that technology in their boats as part of a beta test. "Assuming his accomplice is on land, could they have a satellite phone? I mean, without it being obvious to everyone else that it wasn't a normal phone?"

Mozzie looked doubtful at first. "The current models look like the old brick phones. But maybe..." He was lost in thought a moment and then said, "Maybe his accomplice could forward calls to and from a satellite phone. I wonder if it could be cloned... Yes. I'd need to try a few experiments, but I think it's safe to say that Henry's accomplice can manage their role without lugging around a satellite phone everywhere they go."

That explained how communications to and from Henry weren't being picked up by Win-Win or the FBI. Neal wrote down the emergency phone number he'd found in the guitar case at Randy Weston's music shop. "This might be the number for the accomplice's satellite phone. Can you find out who it belongs to, without Henry or the accomplice noticing?"

"You wound me!" Mozzie complained. "Stealth goes without question. They'll never know I was virtually there." He memorized the number and then tore up the paper on which it was written. With a glance at Neal he said, "You already know who it is."

"I have a suspicion," Neal said. "I could be way off base, and I know you don't want to be influenced by my guess."

"One must begin with a blank slate, uncluttered by assumptions," Mozzie said approvingly. "Facts, and only facts, must be our companions."

"It's actually..." Neal stopped. It would clarify his thoughts if he could talk this through with someone, but he knew it would go better if he tantalized his friend into asking for the information. "No, never mind. I don't want to make this too complicated for you. You focus on the satellite phone."

"I don't want you to tell me your guess of Henry's accomplice," Mozzie insisted.

"I wouldn't," Neal promised. He paused. "But do you want to know about the second accomplice?"

"There are two?" Mozzie asked.

Neal shrugged. "Two cons: Urban Legend and Henry's disappearance. Two accomplices. But the cons are intertwined now to the point it would be almost impossible to separate them. It's genius, really. If all he'd done was disappear, I could have you confirm his accomplice, confront this person with the evidence, and turn it all over to the FBI. We'd have Henry home in days. The trick is that neither of us want the Bureau or our family to learn about Urban Legend. As long as he's disappearing into the Shawn Legend alias, there are things I can't divulge to anyone outside that con. In fact, I want to help him stop Masterson, so all I can do is try to look out for him and keep him from doing anything too rash."

"The roles have reversed," Mozzie said.

"Yeah, I may have been the more rash one in the past," Neal acknowledged. "But the person I feel bad for here is Angela."

"Ah, the cousin I haven't encountered yet. Are you saying her role is more than that of a chanteuse?"

"She has something in common with you," Neal said. "She's a pilot, certified for small aircraft." He let that information hang in the air, and turned his attention to the cider.

Mozzie endeavored to ignore the comment, but his brain had already absorbed the information and the wheels were turning. "She's the other accomplice," he finally said. "You said Henry needs to fly from one port to the next sometimes. He could slip in as an unregistered passenger on her flights."

"Yeah, and theoretically that's in support of the Urban Legend con, so I can't tell anyone at the Bureau. I need to keep her Grace Legend alias a secret."

"No one has noticed Angela racking up the air miles?"

"No," Neal said, "because she's filing a lot of the flight plans under her mother's name."

"Clever," Mozzie said approvingly. "Why do you feel bad for her?"

"In a sense we're both using her. She's the middleman. Middlewoman. Henry won't talk to me, probably because he knows I won't approve of his plans and I'd have the best chance of changing his mind. The primary way I have of getting information to Henry is to tell it to Angela. She's almost certainly leading him to believe that she's tricking me into sharing information, and has to hope she can pass it along in a way that convinces him to pay attention. If that doesn't succeed and Henry sticks to his original plan, she'll probably feel guilty for not conveying my message well enough.

"And I'm sure Henry's made her promise six ways to Sunday not to tell me anything about his plans. Because, you know, heaven forbid a plan of Henry's involve anything straightforward like simply telling me what's going on. Angela probably doesn't even know all of it, and she has to realize that if she tells me too much and Henry finds out, he could cut her out and try to do everything on his own. Then he'd be truly isolated without anyone to keep him from going over the edge, and there's the guilt factor again. She managed to slip me the information that she's a pilot, and that cleared up a lot. But I hate to think how much more I don't know yet. I don't even know what questions to ask her. And if I spend a lot of time talking to her, his other accomplice will notice and alert Henry."

"You're certain she's not both accomplices?" Mozzie asked.

"There's no way. She doesn't have the technical expertise or the time. Her last quarter at the University of Washington just wrapped this month, and that means she's been taking final exams. The accomplice you're looking for has a high-level security clearance to access the data Henry needs, and the time or technology to sift through it. We're talking about someone who can not only run constant searches for any activity related to Robert, Henry or the family, but could also monitor for anyone else running searches on those same criteria."

"That means someone in the FBI, the NSA or Win-Win," Mozzie said. "Or possibly the marshals. I've yet to uncover how vast their web is. And those are the official channels. This could also be the work of a top-notch hacker."

"Whoever it is, they have to be passing the results to Henry by satellite. You track that number, and I'll know who to confront."

Mozzie nodded and looked ready to head out on his assignment.

There was one more thing Neal wanted to discuss, first. "I haven't had a chance to look at the Urban Legend site since last week. Can you show me what you've done?"

Mozzie opened his laptop and regaled Neal with the conspiracy he was spinning, both on the group's site and on various music forums. The recordings Miranda provided not only had many hits, but the links had been shared and posted to other sites an astounding number of times. Neal clicked on one of the links and was impressed with the quality of those old recordings. Miranda did fantastic work. Any recording made in her studio sounded great.

"That sounds like you, Neal." June was standing in the dining room doorway. Neal was pleased to see that she was smiling.

"Part of it is me," he said. "We were joking around that day. We recorded Henry and me singing alternate verses. Then we recorded Henry trying to sound like me, and me trying to sound like Henry. Then Miranda selected pieces from the recordings and merged them together, with the result that only she knows who sang lead versus harmony for each portion in the final version, and she says she doesn't even remember anymore."

"I have an analysis underway by experts, comparing this song to others where we're certain Neal or Henry is the singer. There's software used for authenticating supposed lost recordings, to distinguish real recordings from fakes," Mozzie explained. "The results will be posted in a few days, and should inspire even more debate in the question of whether Neal and Shawn are the same person."

"And who is Shawn?" June asked. She sounded intrigued, which was a change Neal welcomed. For weeks June had seemed entirely disinterested in the world around her.

Neal told June about Urban Legend and their con, with commentary provided by Mozzie.

"This Stan Masterson sounds despicable," June said.

"Scum of the earth," Mozzie agreed. "Masterson Music is an example of the worst of modern corporations run amok. The company is an unchecked bully in the music industry, and Urban Legend will be the David to take down Goliath."

"How can I help?" June asked, and Neal congratulated himself on adding her to his crew.

###

It wasn't until the afternoon that Peter had time to search for information about the song "Fix You." It became an exercise in frustration, and he was starting to regret not assigning this effort to a clerk. It was a relief to think about something else when Tricia called. She was checking to see if there was anything she needed to do the next few days in her role of coaching Neal.

"Not today. Tomorrow I'm having him work with Jones, so he should be set. Right now I'm the one who needs help. I had the bright idea to keep my skills sharp today, but I'd forgotten how tedious research can be."

Tricia chuckled. "It makes you appreciate the field work, doesn't it? Is this for a case, or just a practice exercise?"

"I'm starting to think it's a wild hare. There's a slim chance it could be a lead in a case." Peter wasn't going to bore her with the details, but then he had a second thought. "When you first joined the team, you looked into some intellectual property and copyright infringement cases. Did any of those involve music?"

After recommending a few resources that might help, Tricia added, "At your party I had a chance to talk to Ilsa Hughes, and I learned she started her legal career in the field of intellectual property. She specifically mentioned lawsuits involving music. Her knowledge of rap artists is astounding."

"You're kidding!" Peter had to smile at the image of the elegant and refined Mrs. Hughes listening to rap.

Then Hughes' assistant knocked on his door and it was time to get back to work. Hughes' absence meant that some of his management tasks had been delegated to Peter. The stack of paperwork the assistant left on Peter's desk was daunting.

It wasn't until Peter got home that he had time to try the resources Tricia had recommended. He considered putting it off until Hughes returned and things slowed down, but after last night's argument with El, he thought it would be good for her to see him working on something that she found interesting and safe.

Working with a partner made a world of difference. It still took an hour to find what he was looking for, but it didn't feel that long when El was there smiling at him and exclaiming with pleasure each time they uncovered a lead.

What they discovered was that "Fix You" was expected to be a song on an upcoming Coldplay album. The band had started recording the album in January of 2004 and the release date was projected to be January of 2005, with speculation of delays beyond that. "A whole year?" Peter had asked in surprise. "How can it take that long?"

El shrugged. "I can't say I've ever understood why it takes so long to release an album after it's recorded. But in this case, if we add in the rumors I found on the fan sites, it sounds like the group is mired in the creative process."

Putting aside that aspect, Peter tried to make sense of what they'd learned. Coldplay was kind of a big deal, he guessed. El had heard of them and thought they were on a trajectory for even more success. "How did Henry know the music and lyrics for a song that hasn't been released yet?" he asked.

"Maybe it's a fan thing?" El suggested. "He had a T-shirt from one of their concerts. They might have released a song early for some of their fans."

Peter remembered Henry saying something about things being leaked early. "But if that's the case, why didn't we find a recording or even the lyrics online? It's been more than three months since Henry played it at the cabin. That's a long time for an early release to stay secret. Isn't it?"

"It is. And honestly, if a group is going to release a song early, they would want word to get out, to increase interest in the album."

Satchmo got their attention, reminding them it was time for his walk. As they returned to their house afterward, Peter came at the mystery from another angle. "What if Henry got the song through Win-Win? Maybe the company provides services to the band, or to the record company."

"That could be it," El agreed. "There are so many people involved in producing a song, you know. The songwriters, the recording studio, the producers, the musicians, and then there's the PR and distribution. Either Henry or Win-Win could have contacts at any of those levels. With his interest in music, maybe he's been trying to get Win-Win involved in that industry." She grinned, "Drumming up business, you might say?"

"Please, no music puns," Peter insisted on a groan. "It's been a long day, and when Hughes' assistant gifted me with extra paperwork, I thought a metal rock band was playing their drums in my head."

They stepped inside the house and let Satchmo off his leash. "Why don't you ask Neal?" El suggested. "He's interested in music, too. He'd probably enjoy talking about it."

"That's the thing, El. He would not want to talk about this. It was clear back in March he was annoyed when he learned Henry sang a song that hasn't been released yet. He was worried that I'd find out. I just can't figure out why."

"Could it have something to do with where Henry is hiding? Or how?"

"Maybe. But if it's relevant to finding Henry, and Neal hasn't told me, that could be a serious problem. It means there's probably something illegal going on."

"Hmmm." El sat on the sofa and absently rubbed Satchmo's ears.

Peter sat beside her. "What?"

"Do you think Noelle would know? About the song, I mean. If she knows, her insight might help you determine if it's relevant to Henry's disappearance."

"If she doesn't know... If it's something Neal and Henry are hiding from me and from their family, then it must be something serious." Peter leaned back in the sofa. His instincts as father figure and FBI agent were fighting. Maybe he should keep the lid on this Pandora's box, to protect Neal. But on the other hand, knowing all of the relevant information and acting on that as an agent was his normal mode of protecting people. He couldn't have both. Either he was blissfully ignorant – although being in the dark wasn't his definition of bliss – or he could gain knowledge that might implicate Neal and his cousin in something illegal. He rubbed the back of his head. The drums were returning.

"You know," said El, "I've been meaning to give Noelle a call. I'd like to hear how she's holding up, ask her about the budding romance with Joe. And it just so happens she was there with us when Henry played the song, so it wouldn't be totally out of the blue if I asked her about it. Theoretically, it might be a song I'd like to use at an event. Maybe I should get in touch with her tomorrow."

"You'd tell me if there's anything I need to know?"

"Absolutely," El said.

Peter suspected that El's definition of what he needed to know differed from his own, but that might be for the best. He'd earned the nickname Archeologist by being relentless about uncovering the facts and at times like this his persistence could conflict with respecting Neal's privacy. He trusted El to hit the right balance.

A/N: The Coldplay album was expected to launch in January 2005 and eventually was released later that year. According to Wikipedia, the group wrote many songs in 2004 before finally selecting the ones they wanted for this album, and I have no idea when in that process they wrote "Fix You."