Page 23 of Hawk & Sparrow

The sorcerer smiled. “I have an idea.”

NINE

SUNDAY, 6TH OF NOVEMBER—12:26 P.M.

“ A hotel?” An hour later, Vesper found herself standing before the tallest building in Basalton. She turned to Maximilian. “This is where you want to begin our investigation?”

“

“Not just any hotel,” said Maximilian. “The Massey’s by far the most luxurious one in the city.” He gave her a significant look. “It also happens to be where Francis Gladwell was staying before he met his untimely demise.”

Vesper’s brows knitted. “Didn’t he own a house?”

Maximilian shook his head. “He’d only moved to Basalton within the last year. I’d heard that he was shopping around for homes, but it seems he never found one he liked enough to buy.”

Vesper took out her notebook and jotted down a note. “Identifying Mr. Gladwell’s hotel is one thing, getting into his room is entirely another.”

Maximilian winked. “Leave that part up to me,” he said. “Come on.”

He didn’t give Vesper the opportunity to question him further as he strode toward the hotel doors. She stashed her notebook and followed, mildly annoyed at how much effort it took to keep up with his long strides. A pair of uniformed doormen bowed in unison as they passed. Vesper took a deep breath, then they entered.

White marble stretched across the hotel’s main floor, and a large glass dome in the center of the lobby filtered colored light through its stained glass panes. Each of the chandeliers suspended from its ceiling was the size of a small carriage.

“This way.” Maximilian nodded toward a reception desk, where a concierge stood at attention. The sorcerer leaned on the counter, smiling.

“Good morning,” he said warmly. “We have a friend staying at this hotel, and we’d like to go up to his room and surprise him with a gift. The trouble is … we’ve forgotten his room number. Are you able to give it to us?”

Vesper’s eyes darted to Maximilian, aghast. When he’d said to leave this to him, this wasn’t what she’d had in mind.

The concierge’s expression turned apologetic. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not permitted to share details about any of our guests without prior written consent. It’s a hotel policy.”

“I see. Let’s try this.” Maximilian didn’t miss a beat. Vesper watched as he withdrew a purple bill from his pocket, then slid it across the reception desk. “It’s very important that our friend receives his gift, and we’d very much appreciate your assistance. Are you able to help us?”

Vesper tensed as the concierge paled.

“Sir,” he said in a shakier voice. “I … I must … I must insist that you…”

“I appreciate that our request may be taxing to you,” Maximilian went on. He produced a second hundred-gild bill. “Be assured, I would be very grateful for your help.”

Vesper clenched her teeth. This was exactly the sort of behavior she couldn’t stand, rich people using their money to flout the rules. She watched as the concierge looked from the two hundred-gild bills, then back to Maximilian. He bit his lip. She could only imagine the kind of internal battle he was facing. Accepting a bribe to break hotel policy could cost him his job, but two hundred gild was likely more than what he made in a fortnight. He hesitated a second longer, then snatched the bills from the counter.

“I’ll be right back.”

Vesper waited until the concierge had disappeared around a corner before glaring at Maximilian.

“Bribery?” she said in a low voice. “In broad daylight?”

“A mere difference in preferred language.” The sorcerer shrugged. “You call it a bribe. I call it an encouraging incentive.”

Vesper glared. “I will not have my impeccable professional reputation tarnished by your unprincipled methods, Mr. Kite.”

Maximilian threw her an amused sidelong glance. “Does that mean that if this works, you won’t be going up to Francis’s room with me?”

“I—” Vesper clamped her mouth shut as the concierge returned. He was now holding a wooden clipboard.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asked.

“Francis Gladwell,” said Maximilian.