“Dear girl,” he said when he had answered the phone. “Where are you? Are you all right? The media reports...” And more questions.
“Yes, yes, I understand,” he replied. “Of course, we must meet. There may be something that Cate mentioned that will help,” he had continued when she explained the reason she was there.
“My dear Kris,” he had said again. “We live in dangerous times—what is one to do? Still, I can't imagine what you've been through. Are you safe? Where are you?”
The sound of his voice—a friend who had known Cate for so many years, a consultant on her books, possibly a lover, and someone who understood the close friendship they had shared.
Her throat tightened. After everything that had happened, it would be good to meet with him. Still she had hesitated giving him their location.
Innis had assured her that it was impossible for anyone to trace her call on the cell phone he had provided. He and Anthony used other phones like it, all throwaways, to communicate with clients, some who had rather questionable business activities but participated regularly in the online gaming tournaments they had put together, all part of the underground cyber world they lived in.
“We're staying with friends,” she finally replied. “I can meet you somewhere in the city.”
“Nonsense, you must come to my apartment in the Montparnasse. You have the address, of course. We can talk, and hopefully I can provide something that will explain the reason Cate sent you that message.” He had paused then.
“My dear friend, Cate. So sad. After all the places she traveled throughout her career, for it to end like this. I shall miss her so very much.”
There was a sound over the telecast on the widescreen, the rumble of a motorcycle from the street below.
They were back.
It was just nerves, she told herself, her hands tightening over the mug of coffee, the uncertainty after everything that had happened the past few days, the news about another attack.
Just nerves, she thought, as she hung back in the kitchen, refusing to give into them as Daenerys left the kitchen andcrossed the living area to the entrance of the residence. She took a slow, deep breath as Daenerys threw back the iron latch and opened the door. And another deep breath as Anthony appeared, then James, both soaking wet.
“Bloody Christ!” Innis exclaimed, before anyone else said it. “The least you could have done was send a text message. You don't write, you don't call. What does it say about our relationship?”
“If you kiss me, I'm going to break both your legs,” James replied, with a glance around the grand salon of the old residence as everyone gathered about them— except one.
“Aye, well then, a hug,” Innis replied, wrapping both arms around him, then high-fiving Anthony as the telecast replayed on the screen behind them.
“It's been on since the first broadcast came through,” Innis explained. “You're all right, then?”
Anthony nodded. “It took us a while to get back. A lot of streets are blocked off; we had to take the long way round,” he shrugged.
“Have you had anything to eat?” Daenerys asked.
“One of your herbal snack bars that I found in my backpack,” Anthony made a face. “From our trip to Cannes last summer.”
“I made a stew,” she told them. “There's enough for everyone.”
Kris heard the back-and-forth conversations, Innis's attempt to disguise the concern they had all felt, and Daenerys' common-sense solution—once a crisis was over, serve food.
Everything had been set out, the giant cookpot put back on to simmer, bowls and plates, a basket of fresh French bread, and wine set out.
She caught James' glance as she came out of the kitchen. She was fighting her own emotions—relief with a healthy dose of anger. She returned to the table with the bank of computerscreens, various segments of the news with the latest details playing in the background. She gathered up notes she'd made, along with copies of those photographs of the tapestry that Innis had discovered.
When Anthony would have said something, Daenerys pushed him toward the kitchen.
“Come along. You can help me get everything ready.”
They disappeared amid the sound of dishware being set out, the popping of a cork, and whispered conversation.
Luna gathered up the deck of Tarot cards and shoved Innis toward the kitchen.
“You can help,” she informed him, with a glance over at Kris.
“Innis found some additional information about the tapestry,” Kris explained matter-of-factly. She concentrated on the notes she'd made, gathering everything that they'd made copies of.
