"Fear not. Your deaths will not serve me. In fact, I plan to pin Vennard’s loss upon your traitorous shoulders. With the Guild hunting you, no suspicions will be cast my way. And the faster you run, ma chere amie, the better it is for all of us. But, as an additional sign of good faith, I believe I promised you a reward." He swung the briefcase onto the trunk and ran a hand over the rich leather surface. "Vuitton’s finest.
The President Classeur case. It is yours to keep." He smiled over at her with amusement and French pride.
"But I suspect what is inside is the true price for my son’s freedom. A clue to the shadowy leaders of the Guild." He snapped open the case to reveal a stack of files. On the top folder, imprinted onto the cover, was the image of an eagle with outstretched wings, holding an olive branch in one talon and a bundle of arrows in the other. It was the Great Seal of the United States.
But what does this have to do with the Guild?
He snapped the briefcase closed and slid it toward her.
"What you do with this information-where it will lead-will be very dangerous territory to tread," he warned. "It might serve you better to simply walk away." Not a chance.
She took the case and the hotel key card. With the prizes in hand, she placed the sedan’s fob on the trunk and backed to the curb, well out of the reach of Claude’s guards.
The historian didn’t make a move to take the sedan’s key. Instead, he placed a palm tenderly on the trunk’s lid. His eyes closed in relief as the tension drained from his shoulders. He was no longer a Guild associate, merely a father relieved at the safe return of his prodigal son. Claude took a long breath, then motioned for one of his men to retrieve the key and take the wheel. As his guards climbed into the front seats, Claude ducked into the back, perhaps to be that much closer to his son.
Seichan waited for the sedan to pull away from the curb and head down the street.
As the car vanished out of the square, Renny crossed over to join her. "Did ye get what ye wanted?" She nodded, picturing the relief Claude must be feeling. For the sake of his son, the historian couldn’t risk that she might have searched the papers first.
They had to be authentic.
"Do ye think he can be trusted?" Renny asked, reaching to his scarf.
"That remains to be seen." As they both stared across the plaza, Renny took off his cashmere neckpiece and revealed a closeguarded secret, a secret that Seichan had kept from Claude.
Renny’s throat was bare.
He rubbed at the red burn from his earlier shock. "It was good to get that bloody thing off." Seichan agreed. She reached to her throat and unsnapped her own collar. She stared down at the green LED light. After Vennard’s death, she’d found herself with an extra hour before the noon deadline.