I barely bit back a snarl. No, they weren’t.
Mina grinned and patted Marius’s arm. “We’rea match made in heaven.”
Goofy-eyed looks ensued, and I sighed. So much for a well-oiled machine.
I crossed my arms tightly. “When you’re finished messing around, I’d like to start the briefing.”
“Yes,boss.” Bene rolled his eyes.
I counted to ten. He was the one who’d asked, dammit!
Then something touched my foot, and a warm, easy feeling washed away my frustration.
Sorry, boss,Gen whispered, meeting my eyes from over the table of the cluster of seats we’d taken.
I flashed a smile of thanks and started the briefing, keeping my voice down and my foot against hers.
“Gordon’s hacker identified the buyer as Kurt Grepper,” I reported. “A warlock currently believed to be at his mountain retreat in Switzerland.”
“How do we know the painting is there?” Bene asked.
“We don’t, so reconnaissance will be key to this mission,” I admitted.
“If I’d just bought a new painting, I would want to enjoy it immediately,” Gen offered.
“That only applies if a buyer cares about the painting,” Mina said. “Not if he sees it as any other investment, like stocks or real estate.”
“Or sees it as a way to thumb his nose at a competitor,” Marius grumbled.
Gen gaped. “Who would think that way?”
“You have no idea how this world works,” Mina said grimly.
“Do you mean Grepper thumbing his nose at Ernaux?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Or at Gordon.”
Mina stared. “I shudder to think what that means.”
“In any case, that’s what we have to go on for now,” I said.
“Pretty nice house,” Bene observed, scrolling through the pictures Gordon forwarded.
“Very nice, and very difficult to approach unnoticed,” I agreed.
Gen leaned in to look at the pictures with Mina, who sat beside her. “Not exactly a little chalet, is it?”
Grepper’s mountainside hideaway was a massive, modern block of steel, cement, and giant glass panes. Bulletproof glass, I would wager.
I briefed the team on everything I had, then fielded questions and suggestions on how we might proceed. The landscape blurred past, and so did my mind after a while. Gen remained across from me throughout the three-hour trip, her foot touching mine, keeping the warmth and comfort coming.
I flashed her a weary smile, hoping those vibes went both ways.
“Still nothing from Henrik?” Gen asked when we changed trains in Basel.
“Just this.” I shared the brief message he’d sent, saying he was going undercover in Alexandre Ernaux’s coven and would be hard to reach.
“I’m telling you, he could be selling us out,” Bene warned.
