Masterson Music, Monday afternoon. July 26, 2004.

"Thanks, Theresa," said Henry. "I wasn't sure Mr. Masterson would be able to fit me into his schedule, but I thought I might as well try."

"It's your lucky day. Usually he works in our Chicago headquarters, but he visits us at least once a month. He just flew into New York last night. Have a seat," Theresa ushered Henry into Masterson's office. "His meeting's wrapping up. He should be with you in a few minutes. Would you like coffee?"

"No, I don't need anything." Henry waited until she walked away, and then approached the wall of artwork in Stan Masterson's office. The album covers were exactly as Mozzie had described them. Henry had seen them on the tour Theresa gave him on Saturday, but Mozzie had memorized every single album and which ones were autographed.

"That's my pride and joy," said Stan Masterson from the doorway. He was a tall man, his thick blond hair lightly salted with gray. He looked authoritative but approachable. In fact, he reminded Henry a lot of his own father. Robert had taken care to give that same vibe at Win-Win.

"With good reason. I saw these when we signed the contracts and I couldn't stay away. That's why I'm here. My grandmother adored Elvis Presley. She has a big birthday coming up and I've been at a loss what to get her. Any chance you'd be willing to part with this one?" Henry gestured toward the Elvis in Concert album cover.

Stan walked up to the wall and shook his head. "Took me a long time to add that one to my collection. I couldn't let it go."

"Yeah, I'm not surprised. I mean, Elvis died in the summer of '77 and this album wasn't released until October of that year. He must have autographed an advance version shortly before his death. I went hunting online for any autographed copies of that album cover, and you can't get it, not at any price. I have to ask: Where did you find it?"

"You think they'll have another copy?"

"That's probably too much to hope for, but they may have other unique memorabilia that my grandmother would love."

"Probably so," said Stan. "I got it from a reclusive collector. He wouldn't be happy if I gave out his name, but I could call him and let him know you're interested. He'll get in touch with you if he wants your business."

"That would be awesome. Thanks!" Henry agreeably strolled along when Stan led him back to the lobby. "You've got my contact info, right?"

"It's all in our files," Stan promised.

"Great. I look forward to..." Henry stepped out of the way of a group entering the lobby and bumped into Stan. "Oops. Sorry about that." He shook Stan's hand. "Great meeting you."

Henry waited until he was a couple of blocks away from Masterson Music before he tossed Stan's cell phone into a trash can. Looked like Stan would be using landlines until he had time to buy a replacement.

###

They knew from Stan Masterson's schedule that he'd leave the office around 4pm. He would go to his hotel to change into formal attire before attending an industry event at 7pm. The gap of three hours not only allowed for travel time and changing clothes, but also allowed him to make any calls he didn't want overheard at the office. With help from Collins, who was watching for Stan in the lobby, Travis timed his telephone swaps on the thirtieth floor of the hotel perfectly. When Stan stepped off the elevator he saw Travis knocking on the door of the room beside his.

Stan knew about the phone upgrades. A note about it had been slipped under the door of each room early that morning. "You done my room yet?" he asked Travis, who was about to use the hotel's master key to open the door he'd been knocking on.

"No, not yet," Travis said.

Unlocking his door, Stan said. "Can you get it over with now? Once I get settled in, I don't want any interruptions. It won't take long, will it?"

"Not even two minutes," Travis promised, following Stan inside with three new phones. This was the ideal scenario. He could have entered the room earlier, but being invited inside was best for their case. It reduced the risk of Stan's lawyers claiming the FBI had entered the room unlawfully. After switching out phones in over a dozen rooms, Travis knew the layout. He unplugged and replaced a phone on the desk, one on the far nightstand, and then a slimmer model in the bathroom. The phone on the nightstand was the most centrally located, and it was the one that was bugged. It should pick up conversations anywhere in the suite except the bathroom, and would be activated if any of the handsets were used for a call. "That's it," Travis said. "Have a good evening." He walked out and closed the door behind him. Then he again knocked on the neighboring door. Still no answer, so he unlocked the door and called out, "Technical staff," before walking inside.

Travis paused to put on what looked like a Bluetooth earpiece. It allowed him to hear everything the bug was picking up in Masterson's room. It also recorded everything he heard. Then he swapped three phones in the room. He moved onto the next room, trying not to get anxious about the lack of sound from his earpiece. There wouldn't be much to hear as Masterson changed clothes. And the calls they wanted to record might not happen until after Masterson returned from this evening's gala. Travis left the room and knocked on the next door.

He'd completed two more rooms before he heard Stan.

Damnit!

There was a rustling sound, then a dial tone as Stan picked up a landline handset. He dialed a number and waited as it went to voicemail. Stan's own voice answered, and he hung up in the middle of the message.

Damnit!

He dialed another number.

Masterson Music. How shall I direct your call?

It's Stan. Is my assistant still in the office?

Yes, Mr. Masterson. One moment, I'll transfer you.

A pause. Then a woman said, Mr. Masterson?

Help me, Rhonda.

A sigh. Mr. Masterson, I've told you I'm not a fan of the Beach Boys.

I've misplaced my cell phone, Rhonda. I tried calling it, and it's not here in my hotel room. Would you check around the office?

Of course. Do you remember where you last had it?

Not really. Maybe in the executive conference room? I remember making a call in there.

He hung up after his assistant promised to let him know if they found it. About fifteen minutes later the phone rang in his suite and he answered. It was Rhonda.

Sorry, Mr. Masterson. I gathered everyone in the clerical staff and we checked everywhere. Todd even checked the men's room. There's no sign of your phone.

Thanks, Rhonda. I'm going to update the greeting on my phone to have people call you to leave a message if anything urgent comes up. I've got that event at 7:00, but I don't plan to stay long. When I'm back at the hotel I'll call you to check for messages.

Masterson wrote down his assistant's cell phone number, and then updated the greeting on his lost phone. Travis called Peter with an update.

###

The cousins had dinner with June and updated her on the sting. Angela was still excited about what they had accomplished, and she had more good news to share. "I've found a kindred spirit in Theo Guy. He said if I get into Columbia's music program next year, I can use his studio if I need space and equipment for projects. He said he's so grateful for what we're doing on the Masterson case that he wants to return the favor."

"That's very kind," June said.

Henry looked skeptical. "You aren't falling for this guy, are you?"

Angela rolled her eyes. "No. For one thing, he's old. He must be like nearly forty or something. He's like a friend, a mentor I guess."

"And what's the other thing?" Henry asked.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm burned out on musicians. Next time I start dating someone, I want him to be able to talk about something other than music."

Neal smiled. Their grandfather would be happy to hear that.

"Good," Henry said. "That way I don't have to worry that some guy is latching onto you in hopes you'll further his music career."

During dessert June mentioned that Byron had amassed an extensive collection of jazz albums, and when the meal was over Henry and Angela started going through it, bickering about which album to play first.

Neal hung back, and June invited him to sit beside her on the sofa. "What's got you looking so blue?" she asked him.

"Meeting a few of the employees of Masterson Music got me thinking about what will happen next. I worked for Adler Financials when Vincent Adler disappeared and his fraud was discovered. It was devastating for the employees. The company collapsed and everyone lost their jobs."

June nodded. "Byron had the smarts not to invest with Adler. Nothing like a former con man to recognize a deal that's too good to be true. But you know Masterson Music is very different. Adler's company had no real assets – the money he promised didn't exist, and that's why the investment firm crumbled immediately. But Masterson Music does have assets – talented musicians and their recordings. Those won't melt away. Someone will take over and reorganize the company. There will be some arrests, and probably some people fired for their roles in the scandal, but most will still have their jobs."

"What if Stan liquidates the company to pay his legal fees?"

"He can't." June looked like the cat who swallowed the canary. "After you told me about Masterson, I started looking into his company. I learned that five years ago they went public. At first he owned fifty-one percent of the shares, but over the years he's sold most of them. The end result is he owns about thirteen percent now. He probably will try to sell that, but he won't get much. The stock price will plummet for a while after his arrest."

Neal stared at her. He'd seen the case file and what June was saying was still news to him. "How do you know all of this?"

"Remember when Graham Winslow was here, and you told us he'd met Byron decades ago? Well, we got to reminiscing, and I heard about Graham's first wife, and his current wife. He mentioned her role in the case, and I thought there might be some overlap with my own interests, so he introduced us."

"Your interests..." Neal mulled that over. "Are you planning to buy into Masterson Music, after the stock price plummets?"

"Julia and I discussed investing. We have a mutual fondness for music, and a wish to support talented individuals. So few large companies are run by women. I'd like to foster an environment where women can rise to the top, both in management and as musicians. Who knows? Maybe Angela will work for us one day."

"You're not just going to invest. You're going to buy the whole company! Do you have... I mean would you be able..."

"A majority interest, yes. And I realize I've been less than energetic since we lost Byron. I know my limits. I would oversee the reorganization, appoint a strong management team, and then stay out of their way."

###

The hotel had an empty room on the thirtieth floor and the manager had agreed to let Travis stay there while he monitored Stan's room. Peter arrived around 6pm with food. "Anything new?" he asked.

"No," said Travis as he unwrapped his grilled Portobello sandwich. "He ordered a snack from room service and has been eating in front of the TV."

Minutes later Stan turned off the TV and called room service to pick up his tray. Then they heard the sound of a laptop booting up. The room phone rang.

Yeah?

Mr. Masterson, this is Rhonda. Someone left a message for you. His name's Sanders, and he said it was urgent.

Give me the number. Stan had to tell her to hold on when the prompt hotel staff arrived to take his tray. Then he finished writing down the number and called Sanders.

Thank God! We've got a crisis here, Masterson.

What the hell? Everything was fine when we met this morning.

Yeah, well I got word there's about to be a major crackdown on piracy, and the FBI has us in their crosshairs.

You sure about this?

Yeah, I've been checking into it all afternoon. You remember Ilsa Hughes, right? Legal scourge of the music industry? She was at that fundraising event last weekend. Maybe you heard about it, for the Senator?

Son of a bitch. Senators are expensive. It'll take a major donation to his campaign to make this go away.

It might be too late. My secretary called the prosecutor's office. She learned Ilsa Hughes was out all day. She was in meetings with the FBI.

Peter smiled as Travis gave him a thumbs up at that comment, and it only got better from there. Masterson and Sanders conspired to hide their illegal activities, and discussed what they might have to stop doing, at least temporarily.

"Jackpot," said Peter. "This will bring them both down. It doesn't get much more damning than this."

Masterson made a call to cancel his appearance at an industry party that evening. Clearly he intended to stay in the hotel and continue making contingency plans. He started muttering to himself, complaining about the loss of his cell phone and the contact list he stored on it. He seemed to be looking up a number on his laptop. Then he placed another call.

Frederique's Antiques. Frederique speaking.

Fred, damn you! You told me you'd gone legit.

Stan? What's the problem?

I'll tell you what the problem is. I paid you a fortune for that autographed Elvis album cover, and it's another one of your forgeries!

Are you kidding me?

Do you hear me laughing? Guy stopped by my office this afternoon, musician with ties to a top-notch PI firm called Winston-Winslow, and pointed out how unlikely it was that Elvis signed the cover for an album released a couple of months after his death.

Peter's eyes widened. Henry had gone to Masterson Music? He'd said he was going to check up on Angela at Theo's studio. Correction, he'd said he should check up on Angela. What kind of wrench had Henry thrown into the works now?

It soon became clear that Fred was a forger who had turned his talents to memorabilia. At one time he'd been partners with Stan, who did the research about which items would bring the most money. Stan had been paid in forged autographed items and sold some of those when he needed cash. Fred had supposedly given up the forgery racket and now ran a legitimate shop, but apparently he hadn't been able to resist one last score – selling Masterson a forgery.

Stan was incensed. He needed cash to bribe a Senator – or to make a generous donation in the hopes the Senator would derail an investigation into piracy – and now had to worry that Henry would put together the pieces and tell the world that at least one item in Stan's prized collection was a fake. If that became common knowledge, his entire collection would be tainted. Any item he tried to sell would undergo intense scrutiny, and it seemed that most of his collection wouldn't pass muster.

This would make raising money for his legal defense much harder.

When Stan hung up on Fred, Peter made his own call. "Tricia, when you get into the office tomorrow, I need you to look up any sales of music memorabilia from Stan Masterson's collection, going back at least ten years. We're going to contact each purchaser and recommend they have the items authenticated. We've recorded Stan implicating himself in the sale of forgeries."

"His insurance company will be interested, too," Tricia said. "If he claims to have a fortune in memorabilia, he probably has insurance for it. Overstating the value of his collection would be a concern from their perspective."

Next Peter called Neal. "We've got him. Stan Masterson made phone calls about the piracy, with plenty of details. First thing in the morning we'll get a warrant for his arrest."

"He won't try to flee the country?" Neal asked. "That's a risk when you put pressure on a mark."

"He's a suspect, not a mark. And I'd say it's unlikely. He has no idea how bad things are looking right now. But Travis will keep watch. One more thing. Did you know Henry went back to Masterson Music this afternoon?"

"He did what? He said... Oh, he said he should check on Angela."

Peter filled in the details.

"That sounds like Henry. Is he in trouble?"

"He should be, but I can't justify it. He didn't hurt our case. If anything, he made it easier to put pressure on Stan."

"But you aren't happy about it."

"Not as happy as I'd be if he'd kept me in the loop." There was a pause. "Didn't you say Henry taught you how to pick pockets?"

"Yeah, but what's that got to do with anything?"

"We were able to record both sides of Stan's phone calls this evening because he used the hotel's phone. Travis tells me Stan lost his cell phone sometime today. Hell of a coincidence, that happening right when it was most convenient for us."

"Yes, that's an amazing coincidence," Neal agreed.

"If I searched Henry's room there at June's place, would I find the missing phone?"

"Of course not."

Peter sighed. "You're going to check and make sure there's no evidence, aren't you?"

"I can promise you that in the hypothetical case of Henry taking the phone – instead of the loss being as we agreed, a coincidence – Henry wouldn't be stupid enough to keep it." He paused. "Now, if it had been Mozzie..."

"I don't want to hear it," Peter decided.

###

Early Tuesday morning, the FBI simultaneously raided the Masterson Music offices in New York City, Los Angeles, Memphis and the Chicago headquarters. Stan Masterson was arrested, along with his accomplice Sanders, an executive in a company long suspected of music piracy. The proprietor of Frederique's Antiques was also taken into custody, and seemed more than willing to implicate his former partner in crime.

A few hours later Stan was bailed out, but he was also placed on a watch list to make sure he didn't go anywhere. The board of Masterson Music put him on leave, banning him from the offices while they looked into the FBI's allegations. Meanwhile their stock plummeted, as June had predicted, and she began purchasing shares at a bargain price.

They let Angela share the news of the arrest with Theo Guy. Henry went to Randy Weston's music shop to tell Samantha, followed by calling the Garzas and Hunters in Austin. Neal told Mozzie and then called Cassie Blanca with the news. Tricia coordinated with Diana Berrigan in D.C. Since this case covered multiple jurisdictions, the Office of Public Affairs was handling the press release about the raid and arrests.

In a trial partnership, the FBI was storing the electronic files they seized from Masterson on Winston-Winslow servers. They would also scan the paper documents for storage on those same servers. Algorithms pioneered by Julia Winslow would be used to analyze the files and find the data most relevant to the case. If successful, this approach would save hundreds or even thousands of hours reading through the files. It would result in bringing Masterson to trial sooner. Knowing the raid and arrest was imminent, Graham Winslow and Allen Winston had taken the train to New York Monday night to sign the deal with the FBI. They were in meetings much of the morning with Reese Hughes and Clinton Jones, who would be the FBI contacts for the effort.

With the case wrapped up from her perspective, Angela planned to return to her University of Washington apartment. She'd spoken with her mother Monday night, and Paige had flown her private plane up from D.C. The two of them planned to fly to the Pacific Northwest Tuesday afternoon.

It started out as a day of celebration for Neal's crew in the sting. They had the evidence they needed to bring down Masterson. For the members of Urban Legend, the stress of playing their roles and the continuous performances was over. June pulled some strings with an upscale restaurant to reserve a private room where members of the FBI team and Neal's crew gathered for lunch.

Midway through the meal, Tricia's cell phone rang and she stepped outside to take the call. She returned looking grim. She pulled Peter, Neal, Henry and Graham aside to tell them, "That was Agent Yoshida. He told me that the Coast Guard will arrive in Seattle with Robert Winslow tonight."

Finally, thought Neal. As happy as he'd been about Masterson's arrest, putting Robert in prison would be even more satisfying.

A/N: Thanks everyone for reading, and special thanks to Silbrith for inspiring the memorabilia thread. Henry's comment about his grandmother being an Elvis fan was inspired by my own grandmother -- some of my earliest memories are of her singing Elvis songs.