"I'm sorry, but you know how it is with amber. Not every piece is powerful." She cleared her throat. "Do you mind me asking how you planned to use it?"
"I'm looking for lab-quality stones. Your discovery of the ruin and those relics has fired up a lot of interest in amethyst."
"I see."
Revere glanced back toward the front of the room where Cruz was examining the contents of a case. "Can't let the competition get too far ahead of us. My people are convinced that the existence of the ruin is proof that there's a lot more power in amethyst than the experts have realized. Since we can't get our hands on any of the relics that Amber Inc. seized from you, I'm looking for some raw stones to use for research purposes in the RezStone lab."
"Oh, geez. Sounds like an arms race."
"Amber is power," Wilson said. "In more ways than one." He did not take his eyes off Cruz. "As long as you're here, there is one other specimen that I'd like you to examine."
"Of course." She surveyed the rough stones. "The emerald is a nice specimen."
"I've got some good emeralds in the lab. The stone I want you to see is in Fairstead's private viewing room."
"This gallery isn't it?" she asked, looking around.
"No," Wilson said very softly.
Valentine Fairstead materialized again, white teeth shining.
"If you will follow me, Mr. Revere," he murmured.
He led the way past a guard and rezzed the lock of a door that Lyra had not noticed in the dim light. Revere ushered her into a small, windowless room. Fairstead followed, closing the door behind him.
"I keep this particular specimen in the vault," Fairstead said.
He crossed the small space and pulled aside a midnight blue velvet curtain, revealing a gleaming mag-steel bank vault-style door. Keeping his back to Lyra and Revere, he rezzed the lock.
The heavy door opened slowly. More steel glinted in the shadowy interior.
Energy pulsed from within the vault, lifting the hair on the back of Lyra's neck, thrilling and chilling her senses. She shivered with awareness and a sudden wave of fear. She knew those currents.
She watched Wilson out of the corner of her eye. She was sure she felt energy pulse around him, but there was no indication on his handsome face of any reaction. She reminded herself that men in his position were consummate actors.
Fairstead moved into the vault. "I'll bring out the piece," he said.
The door opened again, startling all three of them. Cruz walked into the room.
Fairstead rushed back out of the vault, empty-handed. He was clearly agitated and alarmed.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Sweetwater," he said. He slid an uneasy glance at Revere. "This is a private showing."
"Don't mind me," Cruz said. He gave Revere a truly dangerous smile. "I'm old-school. That means that Lyra leaves with the one she came with. That would be me."
"It was my understanding that Miss Dore was here in her professional capacity," Revere said. "Not as your date."
"Stop this," Lyra said tightly. "Stop it right now."
All three men looked at her.
"How dare you, Cruz Sweetwater?" She stormed toward him. "You asked me to give you another chance, but look what you've done to me."
He frowned. "I haven't done anything."
"Oh, yes, you have. You have humiliated me in front of my most important client and the proprietor of the most respected amber gallery in the entire city. You've made me look like one of your bimbo girlfriends instead of a real professional consultant. How could you, after all the promises you made?"
She slapped his face hard, much harder than she had intended. The sharp crack of the blow resonated in the small space. For an instant she froze, shocked by her own small act of violence. She had been going for a theatrical touch, not a real blow. She had never before deliberately struck anyone in her entire adult life.
Cruz did not move. He just stood there, his jaw reddening from the blow. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
She burst into tears and rushed toward the door.
"I will never forgive you," she wailed. "This was going to be my big chance to recover from that mountain of debt I've been under, thanks to losing that lawsuit against Amber Inc. I was going to consult for Wilson Revere. You've ruined everything. Just like last time. I don't know why I let you talk me into trusting you again."
She yanked open the door and fled, sobbing. The clients, attendants, and guards in the outer room froze, transfixed by the sight of a hysterical woman running through the elegant establishment.
When she reached the front of the room, someone hurried to push open one of the thick glass doors for her. Dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, she rushed out onto the sidewalk.
She started walking briskly. As soon as she had put some distance between herself and the gallery, she stopped crying and started watching for a cab. It was typical of her luck, she thought, that there wasn't one anywhere in sight. She spotted a bus stop at the end of the block and hurried toward it.
Cruz appeared before the bus did. No surprise there, she thought. She watched as he eased the Slider against the curb.
He leaned across the seat to open the door.
"Get in," he said.
She thought about it for a few seconds, but there really was no point pretending he wasn't there. Cruz would not go away like one of her hallucinations.
She slid into the front seat, closed the door, and buckled her seat belt.
Cruz checked the rearview mirror and pulled away from the curb.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked.
"I slapped your face." She was still stunned by the anger that had momentarily turned everything red.
"Yeah, I noticed." He took one hand off the wheel and touched his jaw somewhat gingerly. "It was a little over-the-top, don't you think?"
"I thought it looked very realistic."
"Probably because it was realistic. Trust me, I felt it."
"I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I'm sorry. I got a little carried away."
"Forget it. What about the fake tears and the female hysteria?"
"I thought that all looked good," she said, not without some satisfaction. "Convincing."
"It was. I'm sure that everyone, including Fairstead, Revere, and half the top-tier amber collectors in the city, not to mention your competitors in the consulting world, bought it."
She struggled and failed to suppress a wry smile. "Everyone but you?"
"I know you better than they do. In a crisis you don't get hysterical. You file a lawsuit."
"Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do." And maybe there were a few things about herself that she had been unaware of, too, until now. So much for having worked through all her anger with Harmonic Meditation. "In any case, I doubt that there's time for a lawsuit in this situation. Probably wouldn't do me any more good than it did the last time."
"Talk to me."
"There's an amethyst relic in Fairstead's vault," she said quietly. "I think it came from the ruin."
"Son of a ghost." He glanced at her. "You found the artifact that disappeared from the AI lab?"
"Maybe."
"What the hell does that mean? Aren't you sure?"
"I said I sensed an amethyst relic. The only question is, whose artifact is it?"
"There's no question about ownership," he said flatly. "It belongs to Amber Inc."
"We don't know for certain, yet, that the one in Fairstead's vault came from your lab." She cleared her throat. "There is another possibility."
He exhaled slowly. "Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?"
"Probably because you know me so well."
"About this other possibility," Cruz said. "Just how many of the relics did you remove from that chamber before Amber Inc. took control?"
"Three. Figured you'd never miss them. And you didn't. Fortunately, the aliens didn't leave a detailed inventory of the artifacts they stored in the chamber."