“Wait. Are you telling me that you intend to rob the Henley—again—without Hale?” He sounded both confused and impressed.
“I’m doing it for Hale.”
Nick laughed. “You mean there’s something at the Henley W. W. Hale the Fifth can’t buy?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What else is new?” He looked off into the distance. “What do you need?”
“A blind spot. And someplace with no guard access overnight.”
“The Basil E. Frankweiler?” he asked with a grin. “Oh, Kat. You are the craziest genius I know.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, will you help me?”
“I would if I could, but my mom is a glorified bureaucrat now. She wouldn’t have that kind of information.”
“Come on, Nick. You and I both know that all the world’s museums keep their security specs on file with Interpol.”
“And Kat, you and I both know we’re not at Interpol.”
“You mean to tell me the official Interpol Liaison to the European Union doesn’t have database access?”
He couldn’t tell her that, and she knew it. So Nick shifted his backpack and started down the sidewalk. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The airport outside of Brussels was busy, but not busy enough, in Kat’s opinion. She kept her bag on her lap and her gaze on the tarmac. At the other end of the terminal a flight was being boarded for New York, and Kat was half tempted to catch it—to run all the way back if she had to, and beg Hale to forgive her; but forgive her for what, she didn’t exactly know.
“Mademoiselle McMurray,” the gate agent said, but Kat didn’t look up. Heavy gray clouds gathered outside, and Kat was trying not to think about the turbulence; her stomach was already lurching up and down. She’d felt queasy for days.
“Mademoiselle?” the woman said again, and Kat suddenly remembered that McMurray was the name on her passport. “We’re boarding.” The woman spoke English with a heavy French accent.
“Merci,” Kat told her, then picked up her bag, handed over her ticket, and joined the long line of passengers crossing through the glass doors and heading toward the plane.
As soon as she stepped outside, the damp breeze hit Kat like a slap. Mist was heavy in the air, and she could feel her short black hair beginning to frizz as it blew across her face, clinging to her cheeks. For a second, Kat thought the wind was howling, that her mind was playing tricks on her when she heard somebody yell, “Kat! Wait!”
The rain was growing heavy, and Kat could see nothing but a dark shadow running from the airport doors toward her. “Hale?” Kat asked. But no. The shape was wrong. The voice was off.
“Wait!” Nick yelled. He was almost panting when he came to a stop beside her. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” Kat told him.
“I’m glad I caught you. I didn’t want you to leave before I could give you your present.” He held up a long plastic tube sealed at each end, and Kat’s stomach flipped again.
“Is that…”
“Complete blueprints for the Henley?” he asked with a wink. “Oh, yeah.”
“Hard copies, Nick? How old-fashioned.”
“I’m an old-fashioned kind of guy.”
And then Kat couldn’t joke anymore. She was all out of tease when she said, “Thanks, Nick. For this. I owe you.”
“I’m not sure you do.”
“Okay. Hale owes you. I’ll take good care of them for—”
Kat reached for the tube, but Nick pulled the blueprints out of her grasp. “Not so fast. I’m coming with them.”