Part 17 (1/2)
The door opened again, startling all three of them. Cruz walked into the room.
Fairstead rushed back out of the vault, empty-handed. He was clearly agitated and alarmed.
”I'm sorry, Mr. Sweet.w.a.ter,” he said. He slid an uneasy glance at Revere. ”This is a private showing.”
”Don't mind me,” Cruz said. He gave Revere a truly dangerous smile. ”I'm old-school. That means that Lyra leaves with the one she came with. That would be me.”
”It was my understanding that Miss Dore was here in her professional capacity,” Revere said. ”Not as your date.”
”Stop this,” Lyra said tightly. ”Stop it right now.”
All three men looked at her.
”How dare you, Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter?” She stormed toward him. ”You asked me to give you another chance, but look what you've done to me.”
He frowned. ”I haven't done anything.”
”Oh, yes, you have. You have humiliated me in front of my most important client and the proprietor of the most respected amber gallery in the entire city. You've made me look like one of your bimbo girlfriends instead of a real professional consultant. How could you, after all the promises you made?”
She slapped his face hard, much harder than she had intended. The sharp crack of the blow resonated in the small s.p.a.ce. For an instant she froze, shocked by her own small act of violence. She had been going for a theatrical touch, not a real blow. She had never before deliberately struck anyone in her entire adult life.
Cruz did not move. He just stood there, his jaw reddening from the blow. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
She burst into tears and rushed toward the door.
”I will never forgive you,” she wailed. ”This was going to be my big chance to recover from that mountain of debt I've been under, thanks to losing that lawsuit against Amber Inc. I was going to consult for Wilson Revere. You've ruined everything. Just like last time. I don't know why I let you talk me into trusting you again.”
She yanked open the door and fled, sobbing. The clients, attendants, and guards in the outer room froze, transfixed by the sight of a hysterical woman running through the elegant establishment.
When she reached the front of the room, someone hurried to push open one of the thick gla.s.s doors for her. Dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand, she rushed out onto the sidewalk.
She started walking briskly. As soon as she had put some distance between herself and the gallery, she stopped crying and started watching for a cab. It was typical of her luck, she thought, that there wasn't one anywhere in sight. She spotted a bus stop at the end of the block and hurried toward it.
Cruz appeared before the bus did. No surprise there, she thought. She watched as he eased the Slider against the curb.
He leaned across the seat to open the door.
”Get in,” he said.
She thought about it for a few seconds, but there really was no point pretending he wasn't there. Cruz would not go away like one of her hallucinations.
She slid into the front seat, closed the door, and buckled her seat belt.
Cruz checked the rearview mirror and pulled away from the curb.
”What the h.e.l.l was that about?” he asked.
”I slapped your face.” She was still stunned by the anger that had momentarily turned everything red.
”Yeah, I noticed.” He took one hand off the wheel and touched his jaw somewhat gingerly. ”It was a little over-the-top, don't you think?”
”I thought it looked very realistic.”
”Probably because it was realistic. Trust me, I felt it.”
”I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I'm sorry. I got a little carried away.”
”Forget it. What about the fake tears and the female hysteria?”
”I thought that all looked good,” she said, not without some satisfaction. ”Convincing.”
”It was. I'm sure that everyone, including Fairstead, Revere, and half the top-tier amber collectors in the city, not to mention your compet.i.tors in the consulting world, bought it.”
She struggled and failed to suppress a wry smile. ”Everyone but you?”
”I know you better than they do. In a crisis you don't get hysterical. You file a lawsuit.”
”Maybe you don't know me as well as you think you do.” And maybe there were a few things about herself that she had been unaware of, too, until now. So much for having worked through all her anger with Harmonic Meditation. ”In any case, I doubt that there's time for a lawsuit in this situation. Probably wouldn't do me any more good than it did the last time.”
”Talk to me.”
”There's an amethyst relic in Fairstead's vault,” she said quietly. ”I think it came from the ruin.”
”Son of a ghost.” He glanced at her. ”You found the artifact that disappeared from the AI lab?”
”Maybe.”
”What the h.e.l.l does that mean? Aren't you sure?”
”I said I sensed an amethyst relic. The only question is, whose artifact is it?”
”There's no question about owners.h.i.+p,” he said flatly. ”It belongs to Amber Inc.”
”We don't know for certain, yet, that the one in Fairstead's vault came from your lab.” She cleared her throat. ”There is another possibility.”
He exhaled slowly. ”Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?”
”Probably because you know me so well.”
”About this other possibility,” Cruz said. ”Just how many of the relics did you remove from that chamber before Amber Inc. took control?”
”Three. Figured you'd never miss them. And you didn't. Fortunately, the aliens didn't leave a detailed inventory of the artifacts they stored in the chamber.”
”Please don't tell me you hid those three stones somewhere in your apartment.”
”Do I look that dumb? I stashed them down in the tunnels, of course. As soon as we get back to my place, I'll change and go underground to see if any of them are missing. If all three are still there, I think it's safe to say that the relic in Fairstead's vault is the one from the Amber Inc. lab.”