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“We have twenty-two million,” Lottie called. “Any advance?”
She expected more. None of the serious people had bid yet; they were waiting for the amateurs to finish playing around.
“Twenty-five million.”
It was Okoro, standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face.
Lottie nodded, acknowledging the bid, and then repeated the figure to the room.
“Twenty-six,” a man shouted in heavily accented English.
“Twenty-six,” Lottie said. “To the man from Belarus. Any advance?”
The bidding seemed to pause, the energy lapsing slightly as people took a breath, considering their wealth and weighing it against their desire for the book. Lottie knew it wasn’t over yet. Okoro was scowling at the Belarusian. Diego, the Spaniard, was leaning against the side wall as if he was bored, but Lottie could see he was ready to pounce at the last minute. The twins from Shanghai were whispering to each other and Merlin Gillette’s children were both whispering to him. People were working out their tactics.
“Any advance on twenty-six million dollars?” she asked, leaning on the lectern with her elbows.
“This is going on too long,” Diego suddenly announced, pushing himself off the wall. “Thirty million dollars and let us be done with it!”
“Thirty million dollars,” Lottie said, as people threw murderous glances at Diego. Before she could search the gathered faces for furtherbids there was a boom from a nearby room, a thunderous clap that shook the walls.
Everyone turned their heads toward the sound. Lottie looked immediately to one of her security team. He had one hand to his ear and a frown on his face like he wasn’t hearing what he expected to hear. He glanced back at her and shook his head once:Don’t know.
“Thirty million dollars,” Lottie said again, raising her voice. She was determined to complete the auction. Even if Cassie didn’t turn up with the Book of Doors, she could take enough of a profit from the Book of Pain to get out of the business for a while.
Another boom sounded, this one closer, and then a third. People started muttering, moving away from the walls and glancing around to see what everyone else was doing.
“Please,” she called. “Just give us a moment.”
A figure walked into the doorway to the ballroom, at the opposite end of the room from Lottie. She watched, and other people turned that way too.
“Stop!” Lottie called. “Who are you?”
He was a tall man, dressed shabbily in an old raincoat, a cowboy-style hat on his head. He advanced into the ballroom, walking slowly with a limp like he had a weak leg.
“Who are you?” Lottie demanded again, her voice full of indignation and authority. The man came to a stop just inside the room and then lifted one hand to remove his hat and toss it off to the side. The face revealed was withered and weathered, many years older than it should have been, gaunt in the cheeks and sagging around the jowls, but Lottie recognized it.
“My name is Hugo Barbary,” the man shouted, the voice a thin, reedy croak. He extended his arm and pointed an automatic handgun at her, the muzzle a huge, gaping hole of dreadful possibility. “Now give me back my fucking book, you bitch!”
Pain in the Forgotten Ballroom
“You have no place here,” Lottie said, sounding calmer than she felt. She was shocked at Barbary’s appearance, but she covered what she felt with a shield of annoyance. “You did not advise of your attendance.”
“Do I look like I’m in the mood to send a fucking email?” Barbary screeched. “You stole my book! I’m not here to buy it off you. I’ve waited fifty years for this!”
“You are embarrassing yourself,” Lottie replied, confused by his words but ignoring the confusion. She was aware that the other people in the room were looking at Barbary, looking at her, trying to predict how the confrontation would go. “Walk away now, before I make you.”
Barbary smiled, soft wrinkled skin stretching to reveal stained teeth. “I’ve been waiting for so long, Bookseller. Hiding and waiting for this day.” He giggled like a child. “I know all about your secret room behind the mirror, Bookseller.”
Lottie flicked her eyes to the leader of her security team, a signal he was waiting for. The man and the two other members of his team—including the one who had escorted Lund and Izzy—ran at Hugo Barbary from two sides of the hall. None of them were quick enough. Hugo pivoted on his heel, shot twice, and then turned and shot again, and all three men fell to the floor as they were running, bullet holes in their foreheads. “I still got it!” Barbary cackled to Lottie. “Now you have no men with guns.”
Lottie was aware of the girl Izzy gasping off to her side, stepping backward as if trying to escape. Barbary caught the movement as well and turned his attention in that direction. Lottie saw Lund step in front of the girl and in that moment she decided that she liked the big man.
“You,” Barbary spat. His face was a tight knot of fury and grizzled hatred. He limped forward, lifting the gun toward Lund. “You stole my book.”
“Is somebody going to do something about this fool?” Merlin Gillette called out. “What kinda circus you running here, woman?”
Barbary swung his arm and shot Gillette through the center of his forehead, sending drops of blood and brain matter spattering onto the mirror behind him like lava spat out of a volcano. Gillette’s two children screamed and shouted and collapsed down next to his body. Seeing now that nobody was safe from this interruption, other people in the room started to move, circling away from Barbary as he limped across the floor. Lottie saw a couple of people run out of the room, heading away through the lobby. Many of the other people, she knew, would be having their own internal debates between self-preservation and getting their hands on the Book of Pain.
