“I’m ready. Let’s get going.”
“Where to?”
“Vancouver, remember? I’ll give you exact coordinates when we’re in the air.”
“You’re the boss.”
Yes, she was. When she heard the engines roar, felt the plane rolling, she knew she’d made it. Five minutes later, the lights of New York winked up at her.
Wishing her well. Bidding her adieu. She waved, laughing.
The phone rang at her elbow.
“We’ve cleared the New York airspace. Where to?”
“Paris. Alert me when we’ve crossed into European airspace; I’ll give you coordinates then.”
“Roger that. There is champagne in the refrigerator, as you requested.”
“Thank you, Captain.”
A ’54 Dom Pérignon, very nice. She poured herself a glass, then snuggled deep in the seat, inserted a small earpiece and took out her iPad. A few taps, and the screen turned an eerie green. She saw shadowy mannequins in shades of grays moving about. She’d used a small cellular repeater that wirelessly boosted the microphones’ range, and she could easily hear all the voices from the microphones she’d hidden along the Met’s fifth-floor hallway and in the communication center itself.
She turned up the volume in time to hear Mike Caine say, “I’m going to personally punch that bitch when we catch her.”
Kitsune raised her glass and toasted the small screen.
“Bonne chance.”
Next she called her employer.
30
Paris
Avenue Foch
Friday, 6:00 a.m.
A soft voice in his ear interrupted a most delicious dream.
“Monsieur Lanighan? Monsieur Lanighan, sir?”
He came awake immediately, jerked upright, nearly hitting Colette, his secretary. She was naked at his side.
“Monsieur Lanighan, the private line. You have a call.” She handed him an encrypted mobile phone, one he’d never used before, because only she had that number.
At last, at long last.
“Merci, Colette. You may return to your quarters for the rest of the night. That is all.”
She slid from his bed and disappeared without a word, closing the bedroom door behind her. He took a deep breath and answered.
“Oui?”
“Bonjour, Saleem. I trust the impending dawn finds the Lion snug in his den? Perhaps with a mate for warmth? I hear Paris is cold tonight.”
His heart leapt to his throat. “Kitsune. Do you have my diamond?”