Page 24 of Hawk & Sparrow

The concierge ran his index finger down the clipboard. “Gladwell…”

Vesper’s eyes wandered, then stopped on a stack of newspapers on the floor near the concierge’s feet. She froze. Even from a distance, she’d have recognized a front page of the Globe anywhere, and she didn’t need to squint to read the headline typed in bold black ink:

GLADWELL SLAIN AT DERAILED EXHIBITION

The blood drained from her face. The concierge was still reviewing his list, but all he had to do was turn slightly and the gig would be up.

“Mr. Kite,” she whispered. When Maximilian didn’t look up, she stamped on his foot. Maximilian looked up at her, glaring, but when she jerked her head in the direction of the stack of newspapers, he started. The sorcerer glanced at the concierge, then covered his mouth as though he was about to cough. Vesper watched as his lips moved, and the folded newspaper on top of the stack quietly flipped itself over so that the front page was hidden. The concierge looked up.

“Mr. Gladwell is staying in room 1624,” he said. “That’s our executive suite. It’s on the top floor. Head all the way down that hall and around the corner to get to it.”

“Thank you,” said Maximilian. He produced a fifty-gild bill and placed it on the desk. “You’ve been immensely helpful to us. We’ll be on our way.”

They left the main lobby and started down the corridor that the concierge had indicated. At the end of the hall was a small golden elevator. Maximilian strode forward, pulled its accordion door back, then gestured. “After you.”

Vesper swallowed, then ducked into the elevator, trying to temper a growing anxiety. The elevator was only marginally larger than a closet, and Maximilian was quite tall. There’d barely be enough room for them both. She pressed herself against one of its walls as the sorcerer stepped in behind her, closed the door, and searched the buttons mounted to the wall until he found the one for the sixteenth floor. At once the elevator lurched upward, and she searched for something to hold on to without luck. Maximilian turned to face her.

“You all right, Evans?”

Vesper swallowed. “Perfectly fine.”

“Good.”

They were standing mere inches apart, close enough for Vesper to notice every time the sorcerer’s chest rose and fell. She looked around, searching for something to fill the uncomfortable silence as the elevator chimed and passed the fourth floor.

“What else do you know about Francis Gladwell?” she finally asked.

The sorcerer shrugged. “Not much, to be honest. We didn’t run in the same circles.”

“Back at the museum, you said that you weren’t the only person in this city who had a motive to want him dead,” she said. “What did you mean?”

“Just that Gladwell was known for being a bit of a peacock,” said Maximilian. “He was always strutting about, showing off his wealth, and trying to be seen with the right people. He acted like new money, and annoyed plenty of people in the process.”

“Did he ever say where his money came from?” Vesper asked. “The executive suite at the Massey has to be expensive.”

“Someone told me once that his family’s fortune came from the shipbuilding business.” Maximilian frowned. “Or maybe it was oil? I’m not entirely sure, actually.”

“Being annoying is one thing,” said Vesper. “But clearly someone disliked Mr. Gladwell enough to want him dead. We’ve talked about friends, but did he have any enemies or rivals?”

“Not that I know of,” said Maximilian.

The elevator passed the tenth floor and abruptly lurched. Vesper braced herself in the corner to keep from falling over.

“Speaking of friends though, Francis was close to Charles Belver,” Maximilian went on. “You may know him. He’s a steel magnate who—”

“I’ve met him.” Vesper remembered the name. “He was at the exhibition, and he interrupted me while I was interviewing Mr. Gladwell.” She frowned. “He told Francis that they needed to talk, and that it couldn’t wait.”

Maximilian’s expression darkened. “Belver’s one to keep an eye on. He’s got a reputation for being ruthless when it comes to business, and he’s not afraid to do whatever it takes to get his way.”

“Have you done business with him?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Vesper started to press the question, when the elevator jolted upward. A small yelp escaped her as she pitched forward at the same time Maximilian reached out to steady her. His fingers encircled her wrist, holding tight. At his touch, her pulse leapt.

“Pardon,” he said quickly. At once, he let go. Vesper inhaled, taking in the woodsy scent of his cologne a moment before stepping back. A few seconds later, there was a cheerful ding and the elevator came to a stop.

“We’re here,” said Maximilian. “This way.”