“Bonne soirée, mon ami,” he said in a thick French accent. “That is, if we still are.”
“À vous aussi,” I said, accepting a drink from one of the women carrying a tray. “And we are. Why wouldn’t we be, Yves?”
He arched a blond brow. “I know at least onefriendwhom you have killed.”
I held up both hands, smiling. “I was provoked.”
“Hmmm.” Yves placed a cigarette between his lips and struck a match. He inhaled once and then held out the lit cigarette to me, which I took. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you around.”
“You know how it goes,” I said after a long inhale. “Different jobs, different cities.”
“What brings you tonight?”
I dropped my voice, acutely aware of the people surrounding us, sitting at adjacent low couches, standing along the wall, walking through the small room. The conversations mixed together, like several ingredients in a beaker, impossible to parse through who spoke what and from where. “I’m representing a buyer.” I exhaled through my nose, and I watched the plume drift upward, swirling in his face. “He’s heard of a cache from upper Egypt that will become available at the next auction.”
Yves flagged for another drink, his present one only had one or two sips left. “Dis m’en plus.”
I hesitated and then shrugged. Lourdes would have moved fast, and doubtless Yves already knew. “Cleopatra.”
He froze, his hand holding the glass halfway to his mouth. His eyes flickered over the room. “I wasn’t aware many people knew of the discovery. Très intéressant.”
“Quite,” I murmured. “Where will it be? The buyer is keen on attending.”
“Why wasn’t he sent an invitation?” Yves narrowed his gaze. “You haven’t gone clean, have you,mon ami?”
“I just killed a friend.” I flicked the cigarette against a silver tray on the low coffee table. “Does that sound clean to you?”
Yves studied me. “Answer my question.”
“He’s new.” I finished the last of the cigarette and craved another. “Wealthy American.”
My companion rolled his eyes, but his shoulders loosened. “He needs to be vetted.”
“In process,” I said. “But he doesn’t want to miss the next one until then.”
“Hmmm,” Yves said. “I suppose I can’t deny you, can I? Or you might follow me down an alley and force it out of me.” He looked at me for confirmation, but I gave him nothing. Then he shrugged. “I’d rather have a pleasant evening. It’s the old government building this time. Le savez-vous?”
I nodded. “I know it. What day and time, s’il vous plaît?”
“You know, I heard the strangest rumor about you.”
I tensed. “Date and time, Yves. I don’t care for gossip, especially about myself.”
“I think you’d care about this one,” Yves said. “I heard you married.”
Nothing in my expression changed, but ice crept over my skin, creating goose bumps.
“In secret,” he continued. “Quite the story, don’t you think?”
“I pity the broad, whoever she is,” I said with a laugh. “I thought you wanted a pleasant evening? I’m not going to ask you for the details again.”
“I gave the location for free,” he said. “If you want more, it will cost you.”
“How much?”
Yves’s eyes dropped to the gun, nearly concealed by my jacket. “I’ve always liked it.”
The revolver had not left my sight since General Gordon’s death. It was the only thing I owned that belonged to the general. The only physical link I had. I reached for it daily, unconsciously, as if it were an extension of myself. I hesitated, knowing there’d be no way I could get it back. But I had nothing else to offer in exchange, and while I could force him to tell me what he knew, I would not kill him for the information. He was, unfortunately, a useful contact. I let out a hiss and handed it over, taking care not to look at the initials carved in the handle. “Bastard.”
