“We have a guest.”
I didn’t like the way he said that.
He typed on his phone, shaking his head. “Conrad Richter’s arrived.”
“What?” Grace’s wide, terrified eyes snapped to me.
My hands curled at my sides. Werner Kessler’s dog. The man who’d shown up at Grace’s café, who’d followed her through London, and who’d stolen her lip balm thinking it was the egg. Who’d told me his employerloved itwhen people chose the hard way. “What does he want?”
“Radek was asking how we want to handle it, so he hasn’t approached him.”
When the doors opened on the main floor, Radek was waiting. He nodded to all of us, then addressed Arthur. “Mr. Penn.”
“Where is he?” Arthur asked.
“Seating area near the restaurant entrance. He arrived approximately four minutes ago. He’s alone in the lobby, but there’s a vehicle outside with a driver. Aleš is watching it.”
I wanted to walk into the lobby and put him through a wall. Instead, I turned to Grace. “We can go back upstairs, pack, and leave through another entrance. Or we can find out what he wants.” I held her gaze. “It’s your decision.”
She looked past me, toward the lobby. Then at each of the men with us. “The lobby’s safe, right? With all of you here?”
Arthur nodded. “Four of us plus Aleš outside. He’d have to be suicidal to make a move.”
“I want to talk to him.” Grace lifted her chin. “Maybe we can put this whole thing behind us. If it’s about money, we tell him the egg isn’t for sale, and we’re done with him.”
I didn’t love it. But the lobby of a five-star hotel with four operators plus a former CIA case officer was about as contained as it got. “I’m good with that. You guys?”
Arthur and Merlin nodded to me.
“Okay.” My instinct was to cup her cheek and pull her close. But this was the time to be a professional. “I’m right beside you. Arthur and Merlin are close. Anything goes sideways, we’re done.”
She nodded to me, then to Radek.
He led us around the corner. The lobby spread out—marble floors, high ceilings, upholstered chairs grouped around low tables near the restaurant entrance. Richter sat in one of them, wearing a light linen suit, legs crossed, and a coffee cup on the table beside him. He saw us and stood, smoothing his jacket.
“Ms. Laurent,” he said with a slight bow once we were close enough. “I’d like to speak with you.”
“Then speak,” I said.
Richter’s gaze flicked to me and back to Grace. She was his objective. I was his obstacle. “My name is Conrad Richter, and my employer understands you’ve arranged to sell your egg to Henri Dubois. He’d like to present an alternative.”
Grace waited.
“He will pay twice whatever Mr. Dubois has offered. Or twice the authenticated value, whichever is greater. We can make a discrete, private transaction, without the need for auctions or delays.” Richter’s voice was smooth. He clearly had a lot of experience with these types of transactions, not just the ones involving stealing what he was after. “The funds can be in your account within twenty-four hours.”
“That’s generous,” Grace said. “But no.”
“I expect Mr. Dubois told you it rightfully belongs to him?”
“He did.”
Richter nodded, as though she’d confirmed something. “With respect, the Dubois family never rightfully owned the egg. Henri’s great-grandfather removed those artifacts from Russia without authorization. My employer is Werner Kessler, and his family has a direct connection to the Imperial court. The egg was taken from his family.”
“I appreciate your position,” she said. “But Henri’s family owned the egg, and I’m going to return it to them.”
“Mr. Kessler is a reasonable man. He hopes you’ll reconsider.” Richter reached into his jacket—I shifted my weight—and pulled out a business card. He set it on the table next to his vacated chair, and walked out through the front door.
No threats. No mention of easy or hard ways. Just a well-dressed man making a calm pitch and leaving his card behind. I likedthateven less. I swiped his card before we moved toward the restaurant. Radek took up sentry near the entrance, while Aleš joined us inside, floating ten feet away.
