The Final Cut

She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Go away. I’m never coming out. This is the most glorious shower I’ve ever taken.”

Nicholas laughed. “You may think differently when I give you this news. Savich called. He has a money trail. And the food’s arrived.”

She couldn’t get dry fast enough. She spared a quick glance at her clothes—no sense getting back into them right away, and she’d rushed in here so fast she’d left her bag in the other room. She pulled on the thick robe instead and joined Nicholas in the living room.

He’d had a shower, too. His hair was still damp, and he smelled good. Unlike her, in her anonymous bathrobe, he looked as sleek as a panther in a black zipper-neck sweater and gray wool trousers. Where did he stash all these wonderful clothes? He had to be coming to the bottom of his magic carry-on.

A tray was on the table with a variety of cheeses, bread, and fruit. A bottle of wine was open, but she ignored his offer of a glass and instead poured herself some water.

“So what did Savich have to say?”

“I told him I was going to get you out of the shower so he could tell us both. He should be calling back any minute.”

“I better grab some clothes.”

“Don’t dress on my account.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. “In your dreams.”

Nicholas gri

“You were definitely dreaming.”

“And was I dreaming when you called me a lamebrain?”

“That you didn’t dream,” she said, and grabbed her bag and carried it into her room.

When she returned a few minutes later, he said, “Eat something. The coffee and pastry weren’t enough.”

She helped herself to a plate and sat with her legs drawn up, eating Brie and grapes. She looked tired, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d been drugged up, but still he’d gotten a good ten hours. He couldn’t imagine she’d enjoyed much rest in that chair.

“After we talk to Savich, we’ll work the computers, find the trail. And stick around here tonight. You need some rest.”

She swept her arm around. “This is nice.”

It was nice, which was the reason he’d wanted to bring her here. Half showing off, half wanting to give her some kindness, after the kindness she’d shown him last night.

He said, “You’re a good partner, Mike.”

He caught her by surprise. She paused for a moment, then said, “You know what? You are, too.”

He laughed. “When do you want to examine my stitches?”

78

Paris

Saturday afternoon

Kitsune stopped for an espresso and a bathroom break at a roadside travel station. She was dragging. Paris was an hour away; she needed to hold it together a bit longer, then the job would be finished and she could rest. This was why she trained so hard, and saved her energy between contracts; once she started a job, proper sleep and food weren’t priorities.

She set the empty cup down on the bar. The place was filled with tourists, teens in tight jeans and mismatched colors, flirting, harried parents with small children, the odd lingering glances of single men. Normal. It was all so very normal. She didn’t remember ever having normal.

She turned to leave and heard her mobile ringing from her jacket pocket. She drew the phone out and looked at the screen. It was Mulvaney.

She shouted with relief. She ran out of the building, jumped in her stolen Fiat, and answered the phone.

“Mulvaney! Thank God, I’ve been so worried!” She got hold of herself. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you were dead.”

“Hello, Kitsune.” Her heart stopped. No. Please, no.

“Lanighan?”

“You’ll get your man Mulvaney back when you hand over the diamond.”

Her heart pounded at her temples, fear clogged her throat. “What have you done to him? Where is he?”

She knew who held the power now. Lanighan’s voice held both contempt and pleasure. “You will do exactly what I say. No more mistakes, no more trying to screw me out of my diamond. You give me the Koh-i-Noor, in person, and I will let him go.”

How had he found Mulvaney? They were always so careful. And how had he managed to take him? No one took Mulvaney, he was too smart, too fast—

Control, she must gain control. She must be calm. She said, “I do not understand why you have done this. I have given you my word, and two years of my life in the pursuit of your dream. I want you to have your diamond.”

He was breathing fast, so mad now he was nearly shouting. “I’m to blame here? You’re the one who put my bank accounts in the hands of the FBI. You’re the one who gave me a key to open that rigged safe-deposit box. You would have blown me up!”

His voice dropped; he was struggling for control. “Damn you, you bitch, you sliced my throat in Paris. Consider this payback. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you. Bring me the diamond, and you get your precious mentor back.”

She was shaking, she was so furious. She yelled, “You idiot! That was not a fake key! You let Mulvaney go right now, or I will disappear with the Koh-i-Noor forever. You won’t be able to unite the three stones.”

She heard the sharp intake of his breath. She knew he was pla

“Yes, Saleem. I know what you think you can do. Why else would you want the Koh-i-Noor? All the men in your family have tried and failed. What makes you think you are any different?”

Saleem ignored her words, and went for the jugular. “You’re killing him, Kitsune. Every word, every minute that ticks by, Mulvaney dies a little more. A finger, an ear, so much I can do. I am serious. You bring me the diamond at nine p.m., to my home, or I will cut him into little pieces.”

He hung up.

Kitsune buried her face in her hands. She felt hollowed out with failure.

She’d bested the father. Somehow she would best the son. She had to regain the upper hand. Lanighan was mad if he thought she would now hand the diamond over in person—he’d kill her without hesitation, and Mulvaney as well. She patted her backpack. The diamond was safe. Now she had to find out where he was holding Mulvaney, and end this.

She put the Fiat in gear and got back on the road, thinking furiously.

This was not the first attempted double-cross she’d faced. But it was the first time a job had ruptured into her real life. Again, she couldn’t believe Lanighan had managed to find and take Mulvaney. He was the most careful man she’d ever known.

They’d worked together for more than half her life, more than twenty years now, and never been linked. Anyone who knew their names saw them only as rivals, and she and Mulvaney had laughed, toasting each other with the Krug he so loved to drink. Tears stung her eyes. She was afraid, not for herself, but for him. Had she done something to allow this to happen? Or maybe she’d been naïve, trusting their measures were infallible? It didn’t matter now. She had to stop Lanighan, had to, no choice.

She wanted to kill him, she wanted to feel the point of her blade sink into the thin flesh of his throat. She wanted to watch him realize he was dead.

A righteous killing, but first she had to figure her way through this.

Think, Kitsune.

Lanighan had driven from Paris to Geneva so there would be no record of his face at the airports or train stations while this hubbub about the diamond raged on in the news. His car would have been searched at the border, which meant Lanighan hadn’t held Mulvaney in Geneva.

Where, then?

In Paris. Lanighan’s empire was run out of the City of Light. His first and only meeting with her had been at the Paris Ritz. Before their first meeting, she’d done a property records search. Lanighan had four private holdings where a covert operation could take place. Mulvaney was surely being held at one of them. She needed more information.