“Yeah.” Grace had mentioned going to school for finance. Some of her past was leaking through in her words, almost taking over her bearing. She sat a little stiffer than normal. “If Caulfield knows what pieces are coming to an auction market, he tips a collector who’s paying him for the lead. The collectorapproaches the seller directly with a guaranteed offer, usually lower than what an auction would bring. The seller takes it because there’s no auction risk, no commission, no waiting for months. Caulfield collects a tip from the collector, and he can skim from the seller’s end as well if he’s also brokering the deal. Pretty much the same mechanism, just a different asset class.”
I’d known something was off about Caulfield. He’d been too keen when we met him at the pub. And the phone call right after he left? He must have been tipping off?—
“Kessler,” I said. “He’s front-running for Kessler, isn’t he?”
Morganna chuckled. “Told you that was the interesting part.”
“You mean…” Grace rubbed her hands over her face and took a few deep breaths. “It wasn’t the jeweler who tipped off Richter and Kessler?”
My arms started itching again. They wanted to wrap around her and show her this would be all right, instead of sitting across the table and letting her spiral. She’d gone through such an emotional roller coaster today. But it wouldn’t break her. Not Grace Laurent. “Caulfield told Kessler, who sent his fixer to get the egg. And when he couldn’t?—”
“He went to the man whose family has five million dollars waiting in escrow for the egg to show up.” Grace’s hands dropped from her face, and her big, beautiful green eyes met mine. “To find out if I’d been in touch with Henri yet.”
“That all makes sense to me,” said Merlin. “What do you think, Marj?”
“It all fits,” Morganna said. “My read is that Caulfield wants this sale to close cleanly so he can get as much as he can from it. If, on the other hand, he’s been feeding intel to Kessler specifically, it’s because Kessler’s been paying more than the brokering earns. Kessler has that kind of money, so it’s possible.”
“Then we can’t let Caulfield do the authentication tomorrow,” I said.
“Why does it matter?” asked Grace. “If he’s front-running, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not taking it to auction. I’m giving it directly to Henri. Caulfield can tip off whoever he wants. There’s no competing bid.”
Why did it matter? Because Caulfield was a slimeball. Because he pretended to be excited for her when he was actually excited for himself. Because she didn’t deserve to be manipulated.
“What do you think I should do?” Grace asked me, as if I had the answers.
If it were up to me, I’d toss the egg into the Vltava River and fly her home that night. Five million was a lot of money, but it wasn’t worth anything if Morganna’s read was wrong, or if Caulfield was more dangerous than someone who was selling intel. I looked at Arthur, the man whose judgment wouldn’t be clouded by his emotions.
But he shook his head at me. “You’re running point on this, Galahad, so it’s your call.”
Fuck. That was also part of the pitch—no red tape, he’d said, and no one calling our shots for us. If I were working for White Spring Security, I’d have someone to report to who’d make this decision.Be smart. Be strategic. Don’t just try and protect her—try to make the right choice.“Grace needs the egg authenticated and Henri Dubois has already called in Dr. Caulfield for it. Morganna confirmed his credentials, and there will be five of us on the property. And as Grace said, even if he tips Kessler off about the authentication, Kessler is Dubois’s problem after we’re gone.”
“Okay.” Grace slid off the couch and stood. “I should make some calls.”
“Use my room,” Arthur said, gesturing toward the bedroom door on the left of the TV room. “Better light and plenty of privacy.”
She was on her way to her suitcase. “No, I’ll check into my room and?—”
I got up, and she cut off.
“Using Arthur’s room wasn’t really optional, was it?” she asked.
I lowered my voice to talk to her, while the others finished their conversation with Morganna, giving Grace and me a moment of privacy in the full room. “We’d all feel better if you were here with us.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I should have known that was coming.”
My hand moved, heading for her arm, but my brain caught up and overrode the movement. I redirected and clasped the back of my neck. “Calling home?”
“I should call my parents. And probably Izzy. They’ve been texting me for updates.”
“Are you going to tell them what’s going on?”
She let out an exhausted laugh. “Where would I even start?”
“With the truth?”
She gave a tiny shake of her head. “I don’t want them to worry.”
Of course she didn’t. She was protecting them the way she knew how, and I understood that impulse far too well. Pushing her to admit the truth and get their emotional support would just make her dig in.
