“We are up to something sketchy,” Kat spat back.
“Technicality,” Gabrielle said with a wave, and Kat took a deep breath and tried to scan the room while her cousin started to walk away, calling over her shoulder one last time. “It’s showtime.”
Kat recognized some of Hale’s family members from the funeral. On the other side of the crowd she could see Garrett’s assistant chatting with a member of the board. There were journalists and society mavens, a party crasher or two. But on the far side of the room, between the curving stairs that led to the second story, stood a stage, and on that stage stood a portrait of Hazel and a very faulty prototype beneath a velvet curtain.
Kat was half tempted to charge across the room and storm the stage, grab the prototype, and disappear. But before she could even move, she saw Garrett appear at the top of the stairs. He lingered there, studying the crowd that filled the grand space below, a wry smile on his lips. He looked very much like a man who had bet against the house. And won.
It was a shame he didn’t notice when Gabrielle walked up behind him. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her. He never even felt the tiny bug she attached to the face of his wristwatch.
“Done?” Kat asked when Gabrielle returned to her side.
Her cousin looked offended. “Of course.”
A moment later, Simon’s voice was in Kat’s ear, saying, “Kat, the bug is working. I’ve just got to…”
Simon’s voice trailed off as though he were lost in thought, while another man made his way toward where Garrett stood on the staircase.
“Looks like our friend from Hong Kong made it,” Gabrielle said, then jerked upright and stared at Kat, wide-eyed. “You don’t think Garrett’s going to sell the prototype tonight, do you?”
“Come on, Simon,” Kat said.
“Just a second,” Simon chided back, but the man from Hong Kong was already walking away, and Kat was just starting to relax, to think maybe they would make it, when a woman brushed against her in the crowd. She cut Gabrielle off—actually caused her to stumble—before making her way toward the trustee.
“Who does she think she is?” Gabrielle asked, pouting at the only woman in the room who was possibly as beautiful as she was. Together, she and Kat stood watching as the woman strolled toward Garrett and tapped him on the shoulder.
He smiled like a man completely unaccustomed to the attention of a gorgeous woman, but neither Kat nor Gabrielle could hear a word of their conversation.
“Simon,” Kat asked. “Where’s that audio?”
A second later, Simon must have flipped a switch, because the lawyer’s voice was booming into their ears.
“Hello,” he said, extending a hand. “Ms.…”
“Montenegro.” The woman spoke English with a heavy French accent. “I was hoping to meet you here, Mr. Garrett. When I saw you speaking with our Hong Kong competitor, you had me quite worried. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Garrett huffed and started to turn away, but the woman was having none of it.
“Of course you do.” She gave a beguiling smile. “It would be a great pity if Genesis were to find a new home without first considering all the possibilities.”
“My dear woman, we are here to celebrate the life of Hazel Hale and the launch of Genesis.”
“Yes.” She looked around the room. “Either that or we are here to prove to all interested parties that the Hale model will not be in production for at least nine months. Maybe longer.” She pulled a flute of champagne from a passing tray, then scanned the crowd. “And let me just say that I represent a very interested party.”
This, at last, seemed to catch Garrett’s attention. “Is that so?”
“It is. What if I were to say that my employer is prepared to take the prototype off your hands as early as…say…the day after tomorrow?”
“I’d say that two weeks is a very short time to wait for a very big reward.”
“Why wait two weeks when we could conclude our business so much sooner?”
“Once we prove the Hale model is defective, I have a buyer who is willing to pay full market value for Genesis—not black market value. There’s a difference, Ms. Montenegro. And the difference is worth two weeks of waiting.”
“Oh. What a pity.” Then one elegant hand reached to smooth his lapel and slip a business card into his pocket. “My number,” she said. “For when you change your mind.”
When Kat watched her walk away, the clock that had been running inside her head began to tick louder and louder until she thought her mind might explode.
“Gabrielle?” Kat swallowed hard. “How soon do you think we can rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan?”