Chapter 12
The one thought that Kat hadn’t had on the train was the first one that torpedoed her mind as soon as they reached the station the next morning: sometimes it’s nice being partnered with a billionaire.
“Did you have a nice trip, miss?” Marcus asked, appearing from thin air on the crowded platform. Their bags were already on the cart in front of him. When they stepped outside, Kat was struck by the frigid air, but thankfully a car was already waiting.
The winter’s first snow had been plowed neatly to the side of the roads, and the sidewalks were covered with tourists and townspeople going about their day. Kat watched through her window and thought: Visily Romani could be here.
Visily Romani could be anywhere.
Visily Romani could be anyone.
No one spoke on the car ride or said a word as they walked through the hotel lobby. Kat had the vague realization that it was nice reaching a penthouse via an elevator and not a ventilation duct, and as the car rose, she closed her eyes. She might have been content to stand like that all day. All week. All year. But too soon the doors were sliding open.
And Kat was listening to a deep voice say, “Hello, Katarina.”
Kat had heard of the presidential suite at Das Palace Hotel in Vienna, of course. Every self-respecting thief was aware that this room was traditionally used for hosting kings and princes, presidents and CEOs. But for all its history, the most intimidating thing about the room right then was the sight of Uncle Eddie, standing beside a roaring fire.
“Welcome to Vienna.”
When Uncle Eddie held out his arms, Gabrielle rushed into them, gushing at him in rapid Russian. No one translated for Hale, but he understood the exchange. Four days ago, Kat had walked back into her uncle’s home and his graces, but anyone could see that Gabrielle, who had spent the last six months using cle**age and quick hands to pick some of the plusher pockets on the Riviera, had never really left the family kitchen.
“Your mother?” Uncle Eddie asked, holding Gabrielle at arm’s length.
“Engaged,” Gabrielle said with a sigh.
Uncle Eddie nodded as if he’d heard it all before. “He has art?”
“Jewels,” Gabrielle said. “Family stuff. He’s a count.”
“Or a duke,” Hale chimed in.
“I get them confused,” Gabrielle confessed.
“Who doesn’t?” Uncle Eddie admitted with a shrug, still holding her and beaming. “It’s good to see you, little one.” He scanned her short skirt. “I only wish I were not seeing quite so much of you.”
Gabrielle didn’t even register the insult. “It’s good to see you too. But how did you—”
Uncle Eddie shook his head. The question wasn’t how her uncle had gotten there. The question, Kat knew, was what had he come to tell them? What had he learned that he couldn’t share over the phone? And what was she going to have to do about it?
He settled into the chair closest to the fire and looked up at Kat. “You have been to see Signor Mariano?”
Kat was faintly aware of the smell of good coffee, and noticed that at some point a china cup had appeared in Uncle Eddie’s hand. But her attention, like Hale’s and Gabrielle’s, was entirely absorbed by Uncle Eddie.
“Visily Romani.” He was speaking to them all, but Kat felt her uncle’s gaze settle upon her. “This name is not unfamiliar to you?”
“Is it an alias?” Kat asked.
“Of course.” He smiled as if enjoying the notion that she might still be, in part, a little girl.
“And the shipping address here in Austria?” Hale asked.
“You have indeed been busy.” Uncle Eddie chuckled but quickly grew serious. “I only wish it were not for nothing.”
“Who is he?” Kat asked.
“He is no one.” Uncle Eddie’s eyes passed to Gabrielle. “He is everyone.”
Uncle Eddie was not a man of riddles, and so Kat knew the words must matter, but she couldn’t fathom how.