“Maybe…” Gabrielle started, but Kat had already turned.
Gravity seemed stronger than normal, pulling Kat down the hill and over the cobblestone streets toward the sandy beaches below.
“What else does the emerald have planned, Hale?”
“You’re not gonna like it,” he said with a shake of his head, and Kat kept walking. She didn’t like any of it.
Over the next five hours, Kat and her companions looked like most tourists who come to the French Riviera on any given year. But looks can be deceiving.
Standing outside La Banque Royale Nationale, very few of the passersby could hear the shorter girl say to the boy, “LaFont’s safe-deposit box is a part of the bank’s platinum package?”
“Yeah.”
“And the stone is being kept here whenever it isn’t making official appearances?”
“Yes.”
“And our last shot at it here would be Thursday night?”
The boy nodded. “Before the auction Friday morning.”
“And don’t tell me”—the girl pointed to the cameras that hung at regular intervals around the perimeter—“those are the Decanter 940s with the heat-sensitive imaging?”
“Yes,” her companions answered in unison.
The girl slid a pair of dark sunglasses from the top of her head and pulled them over her bright blue eyes. She didn’t look back as she said, “Next.”
Walking through the front doors of the Cathedral of Monaco,
Kat had to look around.
“What is going to happen here?” she asked.
“Publicity photos,” Hale said.
“Okay…” Kat glanced at the doors and the cameras, the places where she could imagine the guards and the stone. “This could actually work if we get the right—”
“With the Palace Guards…” Hale added, and Kat turned on her heel and started for the door.
“Next!”
Standing outside the hotel suite where Maggie was set to host an afternoon tea for a visiting delegation of Egyptian dignitaries, Kat had an all-too-familiar reaction. (Too many hired goons, too few exits.)
The scene was no different on the street corner where, according to Simon, it might be possible to delay the armored car for five additional minutes as the stone made its way to or from the Prince’s Palace. (But there were too many bystanders and too little cover.)
There was a point somewhere between the bank and the royal jewelers, where the gem would receive its official polishing, when the group allowed themselves a little hope; but soon Kat was shaking her head and walking away from that possibility, too (entirely too little time to prep, and besides, no crew under a curse should even consider a job requiring scuba gear).
So it was with a heavy heart and very low expectations that Kat turned to Hale. “And that leaves Thursday night.…”
They had walked off the main thoroughfare. Simon was somewhere scanning the Interpol files, and Nick was still tailing Maggie. Marcus had appeared in a limo as if by magic and carried Gabrielle away. The Bagshaws were on the other side of the city, scouting LaFont’s private home. So Kat and Hale were alone as they turned onto a small winding street lined with elegant boutiques and expensive sports cars.
“Do they have a location for the ball yet?”
“They do.”
“Do we want to head over there now, or—”
“First, we make a stop.” Hale turned toward a long glass window with a blue awning. The door chimed as he strolled inside.