own study of the building, and of her. In a leisurely pattern, she moved from painting to painting.
Then she saw the watercolor and both heart and mind raced back to the music room, and Bennett.
The plaque read Her Serene Highness, Princess Louisa de Cordina, but in small letters in the corner of the painting was the signature. Louisa Bisset.
She’d titled it simply
La Mer
. It was indeed the sea, but from a view Hannah had yet to see in Cordina. There was a jagged fall of cliffs that gave way to a sheer incline and ended in a jumble of rocks. From there, the beach spread white to the blue verge of water. But it wasn’t peaceful. In this painting, the artist had looked for and captured the power and the danger. The spray rose high, and on the horizon a storm was brewing.
He found this stored in a trunk, Hannah thought and had to resist the urge to touch the frame as he might have done. He’d found it, she thought again, and perhaps had seen part of himself in it.
“An interesting subject.”
The voice beside her was French, brusquely accented. Contact was made.
“Yes, the artist is very skillful.” Hannah dropped her brochures. As she bent to pick them up she glancedaround and was satisfied that no one was close enough to hear or even notice them. “I have information.”
“You are to pass it through me.”
She turned to smile at him as though they were exchanging a few pleasant remarks about the painting. He was of medium height, dark complexion with no scars. She gauged his age at fifty, though he might have been younger. Certain professions tend to age people quickly. He was not French by birth. The Germanic tone was faint, but she caught it and filed it away.
“There are certain aspects to some of my information that I feel must be given directly to the man who pays me.”
“That is against the organization’s policy.”
“So I was told. However, I’m aware of what nearly happened six months ago because of policy. It wasn’t looked on unfavorably when I used my own initiative and saved the organization, shall we say, certain embarrassments.”
“
Mademoiselle
, I’m only here to receive your information.”
“Then my information is this.” Before speaking again, she moved toward another painting. Again, she took her time studying it. She lifted a hand as if to show her companion a certain combination of colors. “I have unlimited access to the palace. Neither my person nor my possessions are searched. I have already compiled the complete statistics on the security system both there, and at the Fine Arts Center.”
“That will be most useful.”
“And will be given to the man who pays me. That is
my
policy,
monsieur
.”
“You are paid by the organization.”
“And the organization is run by men. I know who I work for and why.” She turned to him then, her smile very cool, very calm. They might have been discussing the weather. “I am not a fool. The . . . organization has certain goals. So do I. I am more than happy to have them merge to our mutual satisfaction. I will meet and speak with the highest authority. See that it’s soon.”
“Some people take a step and find themselves falling from a cliff.”
“I’m surefooted. Pass this on,
s’il vous plaît.
What I know is worth a great deal. What I can find out is worth even more. You’ll find enough to prove it in here.” Hannah let her brochure fall to her feet, but this time she left it there. “
Bonjour, monsieur.”
She turned, knowing that such demands would either take her to the next stage, or end in her being summarily disposed of. Nerves tingling, she began to wander toward the exit. Her heart stopped when Bennett walked in.
A dozen thoughts ran through her mind in a matter of seconds. Had she been set up? Had they used her to get him out in the open at a certain time and place? Had he come for her because Deboque had already struck somewhere else?
It took her only seconds more to dismiss them all as
Then she saw the watercolor and both heart and mind raced back to the music room, and Bennett.
The plaque read Her Serene Highness, Princess Louisa de Cordina, but in small letters in the corner of the painting was the signature. Louisa Bisset.
She’d titled it simply
La Mer
. It was indeed the sea, but from a view Hannah had yet to see in Cordina. There was a jagged fall of cliffs that gave way to a sheer incline and ended in a jumble of rocks. From there, the beach spread white to the blue verge of water. But it wasn’t peaceful. In this painting, the artist had looked for and captured the power and the danger. The spray rose high, and on the horizon a storm was brewing.
He found this stored in a trunk, Hannah thought and had to resist the urge to touch the frame as he might have done. He’d found it, she thought again, and perhaps had seen part of himself in it.
“An interesting subject.”
The voice beside her was French, brusquely accented. Contact was made.
“Yes, the artist is very skillful.” Hannah dropped her brochures. As she bent to pick them up she glancedaround and was satisfied that no one was close enough to hear or even notice them. “I have information.”
“You are to pass it through me.”
She turned to smile at him as though they were exchanging a few pleasant remarks about the painting. He was of medium height, dark complexion with no scars. She gauged his age at fifty, though he might have been younger. Certain professions tend to age people quickly. He was not French by birth. The Germanic tone was faint, but she caught it and filed it away.
“There are certain aspects to some of my information that I feel must be given directly to the man who pays me.”
“That is against the organization’s policy.”
“So I was told. However, I’m aware of what nearly happened six months ago because of policy. It wasn’t looked on unfavorably when I used my own initiative and saved the organization, shall we say, certain embarrassments.”
“
Mademoiselle
, I’m only here to receive your information.”
“Then my information is this.” Before speaking again, she moved toward another painting. Again, she took her time studying it. She lifted a hand as if to show her companion a certain combination of colors. “I have unlimited access to the palace. Neither my person nor my possessions are searched. I have already compiled the complete statistics on the security system both there, and at the Fine Arts Center.”
“That will be most useful.”
“And will be given to the man who pays me. That is
my
policy,
monsieur
.”
“You are paid by the organization.”
“And the organization is run by men. I know who I work for and why.” She turned to him then, her smile very cool, very calm. They might have been discussing the weather. “I am not a fool. The . . . organization has certain goals. So do I. I am more than happy to have them merge to our mutual satisfaction. I will meet and speak with the highest authority. See that it’s soon.”
“Some people take a step and find themselves falling from a cliff.”
“I’m surefooted. Pass this on,
s’il vous plaît.
What I know is worth a great deal. What I can find out is worth even more. You’ll find enough to prove it in here.” Hannah let her brochure fall to her feet, but this time she left it there. “
Bonjour, monsieur.”
She turned, knowing that such demands would either take her to the next stage, or end in her being summarily disposed of. Nerves tingling, she began to wander toward the exit. Her heart stopped when Bennett walked in.
A dozen thoughts ran through her mind in a matter of seconds. Had she been set up? Had they used her to get him out in the open at a certain time and place? Had he come for her because Deboque had already struck somewhere else?
It took her only seconds more to dismiss them all as
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