“There aren’t any women on the commission.”
“Well, there should be,” she snapped.
Kane held up his hands. “You’ll get no argument from me. Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules. Mendoza, once we get the aleuite, I’ll hand the vials off to you. Use the first one as soon as I’ve gotten everything ready. Fletcher is right”—he pivoted, scouring the hordes of people—“there.”
Indeed, Fletcher was tall enough that Zaria could see him standing at the edge of the space a short distance down the corridor. His face was an expressionless mask beneath his officer’s hat as he stared out over the crowd. Zaria swallowed. Surely Ward wouldn’tactuallykill him for Kane’s failure to steal the necklace, would he?
“Nobody will believe I’m a member of the commission,” Jules said. “I don’t look rich enough.”
Kane gave a disgruntled sigh. “Well, start to believe you’re rich enough.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Cons only work if you’re committed. Believe in your role so sincerely that no one will question you. It’s all about the confidence. Believe you’re a member of the commission. Believe you’re a rich man, and so will everyone else. One thing you need to know about humanity, Master Zhao, is that we’re suggestible fools.”
Jules thrust his shoulders back, pursing his lips slightly. He adjusted his jacket with a flourish.
“See?” Kane said. “You look richer already.”
“I’m trying to imagine I’m as much of an asshole as you.”
“Whatever it takes.”
All around them, people were beginning to move with considerable haste toward the center of the Exhibition. Zaria stayed as closeas possible to the nearby display of a hydraulic press, keen not to be bowled over. Kane, on the other hand, had no such concerns: He stayed put, forcing the other patrons to step around him.
“It must be about time for the queen’s speech,” Zaria murmured. She had no desire to see the queen or the prince consort; really, she had no desire to see anyone at all. There were altogether too many people here, pushing and shoving and laughing and talking, each one of them unbearable.
“Yes,” Kane said. “Andthatis my pianoforte.”
He pointed to where a trio of pianos stood accompanied by various other instruments and pieces of furniture. Plush red curtains hung from the rafters on either side, delineating the display from the others nearby. The crowd around them was beginning to thin, but it was still busy enough that Zaria felt a jolt. How the hell were they going to get anywhere near the pianoforte without someone questioning them?
Jules must have had a similar thought, because he said to Kane, “There’s no way we’re going to pull this off.”
Kane waved a hand, effectively shushing him. “Don’t be so pessimistic. That’ll be the exhibitor”—he pointed to a tall man wearing a coat of scarlet—“and you only need to distract him for all of thirty seconds. Fletcher’s right down the corridor, as is the Waterhouse exhibit, so we’ll be ready for the next phase.”
“What am I supposed to talk to the exhibitor about?”
“You hand him the medal, Julian.” Impatience edged into Kane’s voice.
“I meant after that!”
Kane looked to Zaria as if appealing for her input. She shrugged. “Ask about the display. I don’t know.”
Jules chewed his lower lip. Stood up taller again. Narrowed hiseyes. “Okay. I’m a wealthy bastard from the Royal Commission. I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Zaria said, having no idea whether it was true.
He loped confidently over to the exhibitor, and she and Kane watched in silence until Jules handed over the medal and the man cracked a smile. She had to admit, it appeared to be going well.
“Come on.” Kane’s voice was at her ear. He pulled her toward the red curtain at the edge of the exhibit, and together they slunk behind it. The fabric was ruched, which aided in their disappearing act, and Zaria inhaled sharply through her nose as Kane pressed against her.
“Don’t,” she hissed.
“Don’t what?”
“Stand so close.”
He pulled back, and she could hear his frown as he said, “I’m just trying to get this done, Mendoza. Though I must say, it’s interesting to know where your head is at.”
