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the
Ambassador, he accepted your payoff, n'est-ce pas ?”
Pietr switched to French automatically. Sophie showered, but there were things
he wasn't quite prepared to share yet.
            He
sipped his coffee, gaze roving over the suite with a curious sense of
impatience.
            “He
did. That irritation should be a closed book. Why?” Max’s tone had that guarded
air to it. While his cousin often took the more sober approach to problems, he
wasn't above creative negotiations as needed.
            “The
curator that Walter suggested I contact has had some issues, including a
shooting she witnessed yesterday morning at the museum.” Silence greeted
Pietr's words. He sipped his coffee and waited. Max would be considering the
angles. It was his cousin's gift. Pietr could locate and disseminate
information from a dozen different sources, but Max could pull the information
apart, sort it, and identify logistical issues.
            “There are no news reports of a shooting at
the Museum of Antiquities yesterday.”
            “The
police are not releasing any details. It would seem there is no evidence
outside of the curator's word.” Pietr waited, letting Max digest that piece of
information.
            “But?”
            “But
someone tried to kill our curator last night and broke into her apartment.”
            “Is
she all right?” Max’s sharp tone edged his concern. The hunt for the Buddha had
resulted in at least one attack and other threats to Max's fiancé.
            “She
is safe, for now. I convinced her to come back to the hotel with me.” Pietr
drained the cup of coffee and set it aside. Noises from the other room
suggested that his guest finished her shower. “The police were not taking her
report of the shooting that seriously until the attempt on her and the break
in.”
            “What
does it have to do with the Buddha?”
            “I
don't know yet. It might be nothing or it might be everything. But it bothers
me that someone tried to kill her. It bothers me more that she wouldn't have
been in that pub if not for me.” Pietr's fingers curled into a fist. His pulse
knocked against his forehead. It bothered him more that if he hadn't lured her
out of her apartment, she might have been home.
            “Are
you hurt?” Max’s tone hardened. Beyond him in the distance, Pietr heard the
sound of Anya's voice and Max murmured a response.
            “I'm
fine, Mother. I am just angry. I've called on Edgington to represent her.
You'll be paying for that and I've asked Jacques to fly over. So expect that
bill.”
            “Of course.”
            “Max,
is the Buddha that important to Anya?”
            Silence greeted his question. Pietr could
imagine Max working through the angles, his hand drumming against a surface.
            “Yes.
But call Viktor as well. He left Puerto Rico and should be on a lay over in
Washington D.C. today. Have him drive up.”
            “ Oui.”
            The
door to the bedroom opened. Sophie shuffled out of the bedroom, bare feet
swishing against the carpet. Pietr's gut tightened. She appeared in a fluffy,
almost three sizes too big robe. Her warm skin tinted pink from the hot shower
and her long, black hair fell in damp tangles around her face.
            She
was enchanting.
            “Pietr, don't take any stupid chances.” Max’s
voice intruded terribly in this fantasy.
            “Ahh,
Maxwell, tis I, what is there to worry about?” Pietr smiled and thumbed the end
call, cutting off Max’s vociferous response.
            “I'm
sorry,” Sophie toyed with the robe's ties, obvious discomfort echoed in her
slumped shoulders and hesitation at the door. “My clothes were still wet and
smelly, but there was nothing else to wear.”
            “You
look beautiful.” Pietr shoved the phone back into his pocket and crossed the
room to capture her fiddling