There were four new sculptures, a series, depicting the same woman in varying poses, all draped with sheer fabric that was somehow more sensuous than if she’d been nude. Three of them had Sold signs placed next to them. “What the—” Vail looked back for Bursaw, hoping that his friend could answer the incomplete question, but he had already gone inside the gallery. Vail looked at the sculptures again to see if he was imagining things. They were his.
He looked past the display and could see some of the people inside, glasses of wine in their hands, Bursaw now among them, shaking hands with an older woman and accepting a drink from a server.
Vail took a step back and, with attempted objectivity, judged the pieces. Were they good enough? He went inside to find out.
The gallery was deceptively large, consisting of three rooms. Other pieces of his were exhibited on pedestals, more than a dozen. He started over to Bursaw and was about to pull him aside when his friend held up his hands, indicating it wasn’t his doing. He then pointed back at the office door. It was open, and Vail could now see Kate sitting alone. When she spotted Vail, she stood and smiled with a hint of uncertainty.
He entered the office, and all he could say was “How?”
She took his hand. “A Bureau plane. Your building manager remembered me and let me in. A lot of bubble wrap. It wasn’t really that hard. The only difficult part was taking the chance that you wouldn’t hate me for doing this.”
“As far as surprises go, this isn’t bad.”
“Then you’re not mad at me?”
He smiled reflectively. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”
“The gallery owner thinks I’m your manager, so don’t tell him what I really do. He loves that you’re a bricklayer. He keeps telling everyone that you’re just like Rodin. I suppose you know he was a bricklayer before he became famous. Some of them have already sold. I let him set the prices. I hope that’s okay.”
Vail, looking as confused as she’d ever seen him, turned around and watched the people examining his work. He turned back to her, still unable to answer.
“Is it all right?” she asked.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Just say it’s okay.”
“I’m talking about you. The way I was to you—why would you do this for me?”
“I’ll leave the obvious answer to that limited imagination of yours, bricklayer. And let’s not forget the way I was to you. I accused you of not being able to trust anyone, and then you left me all the answers. And never once looked back. Of the good and bad we’ve traded, I’d say I got the better of the deal.” She took a sip of her wine. “That last why had me for a while. Only after I left the off-site and was on my way to give Kalix the list of spies did I realize that you were pointing at him. But you evidently had enough confidence in me that I’d figure it out. Thank you.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the first time since I was a kid, I feel like I’m connected to someone.”
She put her arms around his waist. “And now I believe I owe you one New Year’s Eve.”
Vail glanced out into the gallery and closed the office door quickly.
Kate said, “Actually, I was thinking more like at my place.”
“Do you know who just walked in?”
“Who?”
“Mike, the director’s driver, and he doesn’t look like he’s here for the art.”
“Oh, he’s probably—”
Vail went to the back of the office and opened an exit door. It led to an alley. “Remember what happened when I let you answer that phone on the real New Year’s Eve?” He grabbed her by the wrist. “Let’s go.”
“They know where I live.”
“We’re driving straight to the airport.”
“Where are we going?”
“Yeah, like I trust you enough to tell you.”
She grabbed his arm. “You always did know just what to say to a girl, Stan.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the following people, without whom Noah Boyd would never have been born: My agent, Esther Newberg, who never allowed me to consider failure a possibility My editor, David Highfill, who is the best possible person to be with in the literary trenches And the rest of the good people at William Morrow: Danielle Bartlett Mike Brennan Lynn Grady Tavia Kowalchuk Shawn Nicholls Gabe Robinson Sharyn Rosenblum Liate Stehlik
About the Author
NOAH BOYD is the author of the New York Times bestseller The Bricklayer and a former FBI agent who spent more than twenty years working some of the Bureau’s toughest investigations, including the Green River Killer case and the Highland Park Strangler case (which he’s credited with solving). He currently works on cold cases when he’s not writing. He lives in New England.
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Also by Noah Boyd
The Bricklayer
Credits
Cover design by Mary Schuck
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AGENT X. Copyright © 2011 by Noah Boyd. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition February 2011 ISBN: 9780062041623
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