“Fascinating,” Kane said, though his blood ran cold. He’d never heard of such a thing. “How is it you happen to know about this?” He tried to lace the question with interest as opposed to suspicion. In his experience, only those who were up to no good knew this much about lock picking.
The man gave a self-deprecatory wave. “It’s a special interest of mine. I read something about it in the paper when the American exhibitors arrived in the city.”
“I’ve something of an interest in locks myself,” Kane said smoothly. “It’s an unusual hobby, isn’t it? How nice to find someone who shares it.” In his periphery, he saw Zaria roll her eyes, but he ignored her. “I suppose the Americans intend to do a demonstration at some point?”
The man nodded, the wrinkles in his brow deepening. “Oh, certainly. Like I said, the parautoptic key is especially interesting in the way it can be reset.”
“I can imagine.” Kane grinned. The action felt mechanical. “I look forward to it.”
The contraption featuring the permutating lock had thrown him off. It was a variable he hadn’t factored into his mental plan. But knowing there was a key around here somewhere…
“Rumor has it the Americans aren’t only here for the Exhibition, but also to tour the country picking their competitors’ locks,” the man told Kane confidentially, his voice softening. “A curious marketing tactic, isn’t it?”
“Very curious,” Kane agreed. “Enjoy the rest of your day, sir.” He dipped his head, flashing a last grin at the man, then motioned for Zaria to follow him over to Canada’s exhibits.
“What was allthatabout?” she said, lips thinning. “Did you know him?”
Kane pretended to be interested in the birchbark canoe that hung suspended above their heads. “Not at all. But sometimes the most pertinent information is given willingly.”
“Whatever you’re talking about, can you say it in plain English?”
“The lock on the Waterhouse exhibit? I’m not going to lie; it throws a wrench into the plan. I wasn’t expecting to have to contend with a new design.” Bitterness flooded Kane’s mouth as he spoke. “But the man I was speaking to over there—didn’t you hear what he said? You only need the proper key.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s the case with every lock.”
Kane ignored her tone. “This one is different.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Nothing. Yet. Stay here for a moment, will you? I’ve got to find Fletcher.”
Zaria cut him with a look, but it seemed more exasperated than hateful. A lock of hair had escaped its intricate knot, brushing the curve of her cheek, and Kane clenched his hands into fists. Maybe he was imagining it, but something about her demeanor had shifted since they’d entered the Exhibition and found the necklace. Perhaps it was the anxious excitement of seeing the very object they were after. It made everything more real. Perhaps Zaria was finally beginning to realize that hedidknow what he was doing. Either way, Kane thought he liked the change.
Unfortunate that he was going to betray her in the end.
He stayed close to the center of the palace’s long corridors,avoiding the guests of import clustered at each of the major exhibits. As he moved, Kane took note of the places people congregated. What drew their attention? What was arranged so as to block their line of sight? In which corner could he stand and go more or less unnoticed? People in crowds, he had learned, tended to move in a predictable way. They were like sheep. They stayed with the majority, took cues from their peers without even realizing they were doing it.
Because the palace was so grand, it took Kane longer than expected to track down Fletcher. He eventually spotted his friend among the foreign exhibits, positioned a short distance away from France.
“Nice,” Kane said as he approached, indicating Fletcher’s newly acquired constable’s hat.
“Shut up. Price gave it to me.” Fletcher spoke from the corner of his mouth, keeping his attention fixed straight ahead. “What’s going on? I thought we weren’t going to meet up until later.”
Kane pretended to be very interested in a woven carpet as a laughing duo passed them by. “I need you to look into something for me.”
Fletcher waited, an invitation to continue.
“The Waterhouse jewels—they’re in a cage. A fancy display case that’s essentially a safe, featuring a new type of lock that’s being shown for the first time. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Some of the color leached from Fletcher’s already pale face. “That’s… not ideal.”
“To say the least. Apparently, though, it was sent by some American company called Day and Newell. If my information is correct, each lock corresponds to a parautoptic key with up to fifteen bits.”
“Where did yougetthat information?” Fletcher asked, and Kane shrugged.
“Right place, right time. I need you to find out how many bits are on the key to the Waterhouse exhibit. That’ll tell me how many levers are inside the lock. It’s impossible to see the interior workings—the design specifically makes sure of that.”
“Why don’t we just try to steal the key?”
