“Which couldn’t be further from the truth,” Harris informed us both. “He left that in my care with orders that it be delivered to you the moment he died.”
“You knew him?” I asked.
“Only by reputation. We never actually spoke. I’m now the curator of a service that clients use to deposit things for safekeeping, and that’s what this watch was. There were instructions for it to be delivered as soon as possible after his death was announced. I wasn’t notified until this morning, but I came as quickly as possible.”
I nodded. “May I ask the name of your business?”
“There’s not a name, per se. It’s just a service where people—”
“Criminals,” I suggested.
“Some, yes,” he allowed, his voice deep and resonant, “but not all.”
“I’m sorry, that was rude. Please go on.”
“People entrust me with all manner of treasures, and I hold on to them until they remove them or I’m asked to do something else.”
“Huh.”
I turned back to Ian. “What?”
He moved closer to Harris, studying his face. “You know what you sound like.”
“No, what?” he asked, but he smiled, which was weird.
“That’s a real thing? The Vault is real?”
“You didn’t think it was?”
Ian shrugged. “It’s a fairy tale. Stuff like that doesn’t actually exist.”
“There are more things in heaven and earth, as it were,” Harris said, grinning at Ian, passing him a card I hadn’t even seen him holding. But maybe ex–CIA operatives were good with the whole sleight-of-hand thing. “If you ever want a job… or if you need help outside of what you can do… feel free.”
Ian took the card and met Harris’s remarkable eyes. “Thank you.”
Harris turned back to me. “The key opens an actual vault in Switzerland, so you’ll have to travel if you want to look through Dr. Hartley’s possessions.”
“Okay.”
“He didn’t want the bank’s information coming with the key in case you were pressured into surrendering both to the authorities. So if you decide you want to go through it, use the card I gave your husband, call me, and I’ll have someone meet you in Zürich and take you to the bank.”
“And that’s all part of the process?”
“It’s the process that Dr. Hartley set up specifically for you. My understanding is that even with the key, if it’s not you with the key, there’s no entry.”
“And if I never go?”
“Then I suspect that the contents of his vault will simply remain there until the bank itself is torn down, though I think the oldest bank in Switzerland was built back in the 1800s, so it may outlive you.”
“And if that happens?”
“Then that’s not your worry anymore, now is it?”
I nodded. “True.”
“Anyway, you let me know,” he said kindly, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder before looking at Ian. “And you as well.”
Ian gave him a nod.
“I don’t know if I should thank you for bringing me the watch or not.”
“I’m glad it was given into my keeping so I could meet you. It’s been my pleasure.”
“And mine,” I said, offering him my hand. “Any friend of Ian’s.”
“Friend might be a stretch.” Harris smiled one more time, and wow, it struck me again that he was a really handsome man.
“Good to see you, Miro,” Efrem said quickly, patting my shoulder, “and to meet you, Ian.”
“You as well,” Ian said as he shook Harris’s hand and then Efrem’s before they turned and headed back across the street, then down the sidewalk. They must have parked on another street, because they turned at the next corner and disappeared from view.
“It’s cold for them to not have parked closer,” I said, draping my arm around Ian’s neck.
“Fuckin’ Harris,” he growled.
“What?”
“If he wanted us dead, you know how easy that would be for him?”
“Why would he want us dead? He seemed like a good guy.”
“Jesus, Miro, your life is filled with scary-ass men.”
“No,” I corrected him. “My life is full of one good man with a scary skill set.”
He grunted.
I tightened my arm, curling him close so I could kiss his cheek and then his lips, playfully biting his lower lip, sucking on it before letting go.
“What’re you gonna do with the watch?”
“Go put it in our safety deposit box on Monday. I don’t want it in the house, but I don’t want to lose it either.”
“Good plan. I’ll go with you.”
Inside our Greystone, I carefully put Hartley’s watch in the pocket of my topcoat to be ready for Monday, then started stripping.
“Hey,” I said, a thought hitting me, walking over to the railing to look down into the living room. “You never got to finish about Lorcan. What’s going on with that?”
Ian walked over by the couch so I could see him. “My father was pissed because Lorcan has to do a thousand hours of community service, volunteer at one of those free legal help places for the next six months, and submit to biweekly drug testing for the next two years.”