Harmony: Obsidian Prey Part 8

AN HOUR LATER , DRESSED FOR WORK, VINCENT PERCHED on her shoulder, Lyra kicked the back door of the Halifax Gallery three times with the toe of her black business pump. Knocking was out of the question, because it took both hands to hold on to the package she was carrying.

Nancy opened the door immediately and leaned out to look both ways, checking to see that the alley was empty. Satisfied, she smiled at the sight of Lyra clutching the blanket-wrapped object.

"Oh, good," she said. "It's a big one this time."

"You told me you wanted them larger."

"Size matters to my clients."

"Give me a hand," Lyra said. "This thing is heavy."

"Right. I'll take this end." Nancy moved out onto the bottom step and grasped one side of the package. "Ugh. You're right, it weighs a ton. I can't believe you carried it six blocks."

"Through back alleys, no less."

"Why didn't you just put it into your car and drive it over here?"

"You know I'm trying to walk more these days."

"Yes, but this is ridiculous." Nancy angled the package through the door. "By the way, I a.s.sume you know you're on the front page of both the Herald and the Current today? Also on the morning rez-screen news?"

"Just like old times. At least Vincent looked adorable."

They got the package inside the back room. Vincent hopped down from Lyra's shoulder and scurried to the top of the small refrigerator, where Nancy kept a plate of cookies for him.

"So that was the real reason Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter showed up at the reception last night?" Nancy studied Lyra closely. "He needed you to rescue that team?"

"Yes, but he claimed that was just unfortunate timing. He said he was planning to call me, anyway, because he wants another chance." Lyra winced. "What are the odds?"

"I knew it." Nancy lit up with excitement. "I told you he'd be back one of these days. You said yourself that from his point of view he was just doing his job three months ago. You have to admit you were in danger. Those antiquities gangs are utterly ruthless. If one of them had found out about that ruin, you would have been jungle plant food by now."

"Thanks for that visual."

"I gotta tell you, I was scared to death that whole time you were trying to move those relics on the underground market. It was sort of a relief when your first client turned out to be an undercover agent from Amber Inc. Security. So where do things stand now?"

"He asked me out to dinner tonight."

"You said yes, I hope?"

"I'm thinking about it," Lyra said.

"Oh, that's real decisive. Don't be an idiot. Where's the harm in a dinner date? If nothing else, you'll get a free meal out of the deal, and it will probably be a very, very expensive meal. It's not much in the way of pay-back, but it's better than nothing."

"There is that. But it turns out the AI lab still hasn't been able to locate anyone who can rez amethyst amber."

Nancy's enthusiasm faded. "In other words, you think Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter may have ulterior motives for asking you out to dinner?"

"I'd say that's a distinct possibility, yes."

"d.a.m.n." Nancy wrinkled her nose. "And here I was thinking that we were going to be looking at a happy ending after all."

"Don't hold your breath."

They lowered the package onto the wooden surface of a wide workbench.

"I still say you should have dinner with the guy," Nancy said. "Give him a chance. At the very least, being seen with him will be good for your career."

"Hmm. Hadn't considered that angle."

"Are you kidding?" Nancy grinned. "You're already famous again this morning, thanks to Cruz. Didn't you read any of the stories in the papers?" She nodded toward the copy of the Herald lying on a nearby table. "They called you a private antiquities consultant who caters to an exclusive clientele."

"I noticed. Twelve weeks ago I was just a shady amber tuner, as far as the press was concerned."

"You've been upgraded," Nancy said. "Of course, they also implied that the reason you dropped the lawsuit was because you're having a secret affair with Sweet.w.a.ter."

"Those rumors will only get worse if I go out to dinner with him."

"So what? Beats sitting at home every night the way you've been doing."

"Maybe."

Lyra undid the ties that secured the wrappings and pulled the old blanket aside. Nancy studied the painting, hands on her hips. She smiled slowly.

"What do you think?" Lyra asked.

"I think it's another Chimera original, and it will sell in a minute. Mr. Anonymous will s.n.a.t.c.h it up instantly, just like he did the others, if I give him the opportunity. But you know, I'm starting to think it might be time to go for an auction."

"I'm not so sure," Lyra said. "An auction will attract the press."

"There are already rumors about the mysterious Chimera circulating in the art world. It's great PR."

"Yes, but too much attention could ruin us. You told me that critic at the Herald has been pestering you recently for details on the new artist in your gallery. What if he decides to do some investigating?"

"I can handle him," Nancy said confidently.

"Hmm."

Vincent bounced up onto the end of the workbench, a cookie in one paw. He munched enthusiastically, showing no interest in the painting.

They both looked at him. Lyra noticed that the jaunty red beret was sitting at a precarious angle. She leaned forward to adjust the clip that kept the little red cap in place.

"Come on," Nancy coaxed. "What's one more little art auction at a small gallery? It won't even cause a ripple."

"You know as well as I do that if word gets out that Chimera is actually a dust bunny, the bottom would drop out of his market overnight," Lyra said. "Mr. Anonymous would want all of his money refunded. Worse yet, he'd probably sue both of us. Not only would we both be ruined financially, our reputations would be shot."

"Okay, okay, we'll make it a very private auction. Only the most exclusive and discerning connoisseurs of modern art will be invited. And Mr. Anonymous, of course. We'll keep it very hush-hush. The collectors will love it. The bidding will go crazy. We'll get rich."

"Well-"

"This is our chance to make some really big money, Lyra. Time to go for the amber ring, my friend. Why the hesitation? This isn't like you. Where's that gutsy Dore spirit? Is this the woman who tried to sue Amber Inc.?"

"This is the woman who is knee-deep in debt because she tried to sue Amber Inc.," Lyra said dryly. "But when you're right, you're right. This is a golden opportunity. Let's do it." She paused, glancing at the copy of the Herald. "I can't believe they called me an antiquities consultant instead of a tuner."

"An antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele. They made it sound as though Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter, himself, was one of your clients."

"Wonder where the press got that idea?"

"Something tells me it came straight from the Amber Inc. publicity department," Nancy said. "And that means they got it from Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter. His way of trying to make amends, I'll bet. In the art and antiquities world, you can't buy publicity like that. He did you a huge favor. It was a very romantic thing to do, if you ask me."

Lyra exhaled slowly, thinking about it. "You know, you're right. Dinner with Cruz Sweet.w.a.ter might be good for my career."

"That's it. Tell yourself you're dating him because the publicity will be good for business."

Chapter 10.

HER PHONE RANG JUST AS SHE OPENED THE BACK ROOM of her shop.

"Dore Tuning and Consulting," she said, hitting the lights. She watched Vincent scamper across the room to where she kept a locked box of rez-brush paints and a canvas to entertain him during the long workdays.

"Miss Dore, please."

The voice was male, smooth, authoritative, with just the right amount of upper-cla.s.s power vibe. Not one of her regulars.

"Speaking," she said.

"This is Wilson Revere. I understand you're something of an expert on rare ambers."

She froze, excitement pulsing through her. It was, of course, entirely possible that there was more than one Wilson Revere in Frequency City. But how many of them would be interested in a tuner who could handle rare ambers?

She cleared her throat and tried to a.s.sume an a.s.sured tone. "Would this be Wilson Revere of the RezStone corporation?"

He laughed. "One and the same. Sorry, I should have done a better job of introducing myself. Call me Wilson."

"What can I do for you, uh, Wilson?"

"There's an auction at the Fairstead Gallery tomorrow afternoon. I understand that there will be some interesting raw stones of rare amber up for sale. One of the specimens is amethyst. The consultant I usually employ for this sort of thing has no experience with that particular variety. I'd like you to attend the preview with me and give me your opinion before I bid. Are you free?"

She gripped the phone tighter. It was all she could do to maintain her cool, professional voice. "Let me check my appointment book."

"Certainly."

She forced herself to let a few seconds pa.s.s before she spoke to him again.

"Yes, Mr. Revere, it appears I'm free tomorrow afternoon. I'll meet you at the Fairstead Gallery."

"That will be fine. And, remember, it's Wilson."

"Right. Wilson."

"Thank you, Miss Dore. I'll look forward to meeting you in person tomorrow."

He ended the connection.

Lyra looked at Vincent, who was perched on top of the rez-brush paint box, waiting for her to open it.

"I don't think we'll mention the name of my new client to Cruz," she said. "I get the feeling there's some bad blood between the Reveres and the Sweet.w.a.ters. Remember the tuner's motto: 'What happens in a tuner's shop stays in a tuner's shop.' "

Chapter 11.

" I'M HAVING DINNER WITH YOU TONIGHT BECAUSE Nancy and I decided that being seen with you may be good for the antiquities consulting side of my business," Lyra said. "Especially given the articles in today's papers."

Cruz looked at her across the width of the small, intimate booth. "I appreciate the honesty."

"Sure. Anytime. I take it that informing the media that I'm an exclusive antiquities consultant with an exclusive clientele was your idea?"

"Figured it was the least I could do."

"Well, thanks for that."

Cruz's eyes gleamed with amus.e.m.e.nt. "Does that mean we're even?"

"No."

The small restaurant was not only one of the most expensive in the city, it was considered to be among the best by people who cared a lot about fine dining. Lyra tried not to appear impressed, but it was hard to fake a blase att.i.tude when you were sitting in one of the most exclusive restaurants in town, and your dinner partner was one of the most powerful men in the city.

The Emerald Bistro was located in the heart of a recently gentrified section of the Quarter. It was an elegant, discreetly lit enclave where the wealthy and the powerful could dine in a relaxed atmosphere among their own kind. The service was exquisite, the exotic cuisine was served in itty-bitty portions, and the wines on the leather-clad list started at a price that was well above her entire weekly food budget.

She and Cruz had been the subject of a number of veiled glances when they had arrived. But the staff and the other diners were giving the impression that her presence here tonight with one of the men of Amber Inc. was no big deal.

Cruz picked up his winegla.s.s. "You look incredible this evening."

"Thank you."

She had gone with her standard gallery reception look, a sleek little black dress, high-heeled evening sandals, a pair of amber earrings, and her charm bracelet.