"An interesting choice for a business meeting," I replied, accepting the seat he indicated. "Though I suppose discretion is guaranteed when everyone present has secrets to protect."
"Precisely." His gaze flickered to my high collar. "You seem tense. Perhaps because you're carrying marks that aren't displayed as openly as the patrons downstairs?"
Beneath my shirt, Algerone's bruises throbbed as if responding to the accusation.
"My personal life isn't relevant to our discussion," I said evenly.
"On the contrary." Shaw signaled to a server and ordered bourbon without consulting me. "You're more composed in person than you were on our call. More guarded. Perhaps because you're no longer performing for an audience?" His eyes glinted. "Or perhaps because you are performing, and the stakes are higher face to face."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Those marks you're hiding. On the call, you claimed a 'rough encounter at a club.' But here, in an actual club where such marks are worn proudly..." He gestured at the patrons below. "You're the only one hiding. Why is that?"
I kept my expression neutral despite the heat crawling up my spine. "You overestimate your insight."
Shaw smiled and shifted topics. "You mentioned your best operatives are in Southeast Asia. Xander and Ash, running reconnaissance for six weeks now."
I'd revealed that on the call, testing whether he'd react. Now I wondered if I'd given away too much.
"What about them?"
"I find it interesting that you'd deploy your most capable assets so far from home during a crisis. Unless the reconnaissance is actually pursuit. Following leads on the Banshee theft, perhaps?"
My pulse quickened. "You seem remarkably well-informed about Lucky Losers' operational decisions."
"I make it my business to understand organizations I might acquire. For instance, I know they've been chasing dead ends in Singapore for the past sixteen hours." His smile sharpened. "And I know they're nowhere near the prototype's actual location."
The casual revelation of intelligence he shouldn't possess sent ice through my veins.
"You have a source inside Lucky Losers," I said quietly.
"I have sources everywhere, Maxime. The question is whether you're prepared to become one of them." He leaned forward, and the scent of his cologne reached me, something expensive but soulless, nothing like Algerone's signature sandalwood and dark spice. When Shaw's fingertips brushed my wrist, nothing but revulsion stirred in my gut.
"Let's discuss what you actually want from me," I said, withdrawing my hand.
"Direct. I appreciate that." He leaned back. "I'm interested in Lucky Losers' response to the Banshee incident. What's Algerone's theory about what happened?"
I hesitated as if wrestling with my conscience. "We've identified three potential storage locations for the prototype. Teams are being dispatched simultaneously."
"Where?"
"One in Guangzhou. One outside Moscow. One in Dubai." All lies, delivered with the perfect mixture of reluctance and resignation.
Shaw studied me. "And Dr. Hardin? Where is she?"
"Unknown. Though I suspect she's no longer alive to collect whatever payment was promised."
Something flashed in his eyes. Annoyance. Good.
"Enough games," Shaw said suddenly, rising. "Come with me."
He led me through a private corridor to an executive office, sterile and professional after the club's decadence. Behind a sleek desk, he pressed a button. A hidden panel slid open, revealing monitors. He typed a command, and a specific image enlarged.
Dr. Hardin, very much alive, working in a laboratory.
"As you can see," Shaw commented, "reports of the doctor's demise have been greatly exaggerated."
Seeing her there, working comfortably in what was clearly a GidTech facility, confirmed everything. Shaw had orchestrated the theft entirely.
