The auctioneer took an inconspicuous sip from a bottle of water, then watched as the next item was brought out from the back.
“Lot 59,” he said.
Kenzie watched as the modest little item was brought into the room. The same man with the pristine white gloves handled it, placing it gently atop a gleaming pedestal, then arranged it so the light caught it just right.
“Blind Man’s Cup,” the auctioneer said in French. “From the collection of Balzac and Baudier, recently made available after a fifty-year wait. I will start the bidding at one million euros.”
Kenzie knew it was all a veil, something made up to conceal the real truth. The auction house wouldn’t dig too deeply. The well-heeled wouldn’t look too closely. Everyone’s a winner. She picked out the various players as the bid rose to two million.
Behind and around her she knew, the team would be making ready. Having attended several auctions before, Kenzie knew hot items such as this moved very quickly once purchased. The trouble was, it was the seller they were after, not the buyer.
As the price went north of two-point-five, the bids began to thin out. This was when the serious buyers usually came out of the shadows — or rather from the further corners of the room. Kenzie heard a new voice now and slowly drifted her eyes in that direction.
He stood leaning against a shiny white pillar, partially concealed by the tall man at his side, but Kenzie recognized him in a heartbeat.
Tremayne.
The only name she knew him by, but a noteworthy one nonetheless. Tremayne was a relic hunter, just as she used to be, and was known to be just as ruthless. It was a rare day when Tremayne didn’t come out on top, and wasn’t protected by at least three expert guards. She frowned, and looked away. The gentle hubbub surrounded her but she distinctly caught Tremayne’s tones now that she knew he was there and knew where to look.
“Three million.”
A hush. People were surprised and took another long look at the unassuming artifact, perhaps re-evaluating. What did this bidder know that they didn’t? Kenzie had seen it before and knew that most wouldn’t take a risk. She fixed her eyes ahead, wishing the woman’s perfume drifting in from the left was a little less toxic and that they had employed a communications device after all.
Tremayne was big trouble.
Still, she waited. Moving would only attract attention. The animations of the auctioneer became more intense as the bid approached three-point-five, and they all took another look at the cup. Lights shone, gasps rang out, and excitement filled the air. Another bid flew and then another. Finally, Tremayne held up a hand and announced:
“Four million euros.”
The hammer was raised, the cup offered once and then twice. With no challenges the hammer finally came down and the auctioneer moved smartly on to the next lot. Kenzie watched Tremayne and noticed Mai hovering around the blind side of the pillar. The Japanese woman was too close, but Kenzie respected her skills.
With difficulty, she stayed put and watched.
Tremayne closed his booklet, laid it down on a table, and nodded to the tall man at his side. No awareness was drawn as the pair made a slow, circuitous route around the back of the room and toward the holding area. Clearly, they were here for one thing and now in a hurry to claim it.
And then vanish. Kenzie knew the routine.
As Tremayne and his guard negotiated the packed wall at the room’s far side, she rose gracefully out of her chair, cinched the little black dress, and forced herself not to tread on the whiffy woman’s toes. Once in the aisle she made eye contact with her team and headed toward the back.
Dahl was already there. “You know him?” His voice was barely a whisper.
“Too well, I’m afraid. He’s the male version of me.”
Dahl blinked. “That bad?”
“That good. He’ll be on this like a cold-blooded divorce lawyer.” She paused. “Whoops. Didn’t mean that to sound so harsh.”
“Of course you didn’t. Let’s go before we lose them.”
Mai had already drifted past and now Kinimaka, having just entered, pushed through a crowd at the front of the room to catch up. Kenzie winced. Never one for subtlety, the big Hawaiian, he’d been even worse lately since Hayden took a million pins to his emotional cushion and decided to jab them all in at the same time.
A chair toppled, with its occupant holding on. Kinimaka picked them both up, apologizing quietly, and accidentally shoulder barged the man with the white gloves. Luckily, he wasn’t carrying a priceless artifact at the time. Kenzie motioned to Dahl and the two meandered their way toward the holding area, which was at the back of the room behind a set of rich, crimson-colored curtains.
Tremayne and his guard had pushed through twenty seconds ago. Mai held up a hand to her face, a subtle signal to wait. Then she proceeded to step through, sweet smile already being produced to help disarm the men and women she might meet.
Kenzie leaned in to Dahl, feeling her head touch his broad shoulders. “Risky.”
“Mai can handle it. She’s a total pro.”
“I know. But so is Tremayne.”
Dahl looked like he might agree. “Wait, here’s Mano.”
She nodded at the approaching mountain, then looked behind him. “You know, you trampled a pink poodle on your way past.”
“I did?” Mano looked stricken, then caught up. “Oh, funny. Are we waiting for Mai?”
Kenzie was mission leader and made the snap decision. “No. We follow. We can’t lose Tremayne tonight, because I guarantee you if we do, we’ll never find him afterward.”
Dahl stopped her. “But you could?”
“Maybe. But the danger would be off the scale. As fraught as any Mossad mission. This is still our best chance.”
They approached the curtain, still drifting, making a play of watching the latest lot. Kenzie knew it would be best to push straight through with confidence, but if Tremayne waited on the other side she had no doubt it would all end in blood and bullets.
“You go,” she told Dahl. “Don’t be long.”
Mai slipped through the gap in the curtain at that moment, almost colliding with Kenzie and ending up in her arms.
“We must move,” Mai said sharply. “They wasted no time back there, but did not suspect me.”
Kenzie started walking fast. “They’re already leaving? Damn.”
Mai nodded as she pushed the gathered wealth out of her path. “Totally unceremonious. A wire transfer exchange and then the cup was wrapped and placed in the smaller guy’s back pack.”
“And they’re headed out the back,” Kenzie finished.
“Isn’t that what you would do?”
“Well, yes, but…” She paused, giving herself a mental kick. The rigors of running with a new team and playing within the law were taking a toll on her focus. “I assumed wrongly that they’d leave by the front door.”
“Don’t worry,” Mai said a little infuriatingly. “It’s your first mission in charge. You’re allowed a mistake.”
“So long as you don’t get us killed.” Dahl pushed ahead, determined not to lose their one lead. Kenzie clenched her teeth together. The team left the auction room and followed an opulently furnished corridor into the main lobby. Even here, the tone was hushed, the patrons all standing and walking around with an air of sophistication. Kenzie made sure she led as they exited the hotel and walked down some steps onto the Champs Élysées.
“At least we came prepared,” Kinimaka said.
Kenzie cringed a little as she approached her battered scooter. It had been decided that the best way to carve through the nightmarish Parisian traffic and keep their quarry in sight was to hire four old scooters and cut through the flow. The locals did it all the time, barging through the traffic jams using inside and outside lanes indiscriminately at rarely less than thirty miles an hour. Amazingly, not many died.