“I’m a quick study, remember?” I managed to say.
Delilah looked me up and down in a perfect mimic of my fantasy. Blood rushed to my cock. “And I’m still a tough fucking teacher.”
“What she’s trying to say,” Freya cut in, “is that she’ll kill you.”
Delilah pulled Freya in for a hug.
“Ew, you’re all sweaty,” Freya squealed. “Keep punching.”
“Punch and talk,” Abe corrected. “We need a game plan for what’s happening next.”
I let out a long exhale, grateful for the high-pressure distraction from Delilah. I shrugged out of my jacket and scrubbed my hand down my face.
This evening’s coursing adrenaline vanished by the end of Abe’s next sentence.
“We have seventeen days until the exhibit. The gala Victoria invited you to is in seven. That leaves us, honestly, less than ten days after that to convince Victoria to show you the Copernicus.”
“If she has the Copernicus,” Delilah said. “Who knows? The contact she introduced us to tonight, Alistair, knew the code word. And had potentially more pull than Victoria in whatever…”
“What?” Abe prodded.
“Whatever this world is. This…system of buying and selling stolen books that we operate in. Tonight, it felt like we were witnessing something structured. An illegal auction hidden inside a legal one.”
“When I was at the FBI, I always had a theory there was one person at the top of this pyramid,” Abe said. “One person pulling the strings. I always thought it was Bernard Allerton.”
I grimaced. If I hadn’t been at that auction house as an undercover Codex agent, it could have been a regular Saturday night for me. Back at Oxford, Bernard and I frequented auctions together—often with the library’s donors.
Had I really been that naive?
“I think I know Alistair,” I admitted. All three heads whipped toward me again. “That man. He didn’t recognize me, but I told Abe one of the suspicious behaviors I was tracking with Bernard was the bringing on of interns or assistants that I wouldn’t see again. They’d be at the library for ‘special projects,’ and Bernard had the kind of sway that meant no one would double check who they really were. Alistair, he… I think he was one of them.”
“Recently?” Abe said. “Like you saw him the month before Bernard fled?”
I shook my head, trying to remember. “Years ago. Maybe five. It’s a unique name, which is why I remember it. He may even have introduced him as someone who worked for an auction house. But either way, that man was given access to whatever he wanted at our library.”
“That was allowed?” Freya asked.
“It was allowed because Bernard allowed it.” I crossed my arms, feeling uneasy. I’d recycled Bernard’s words tonight and it had left behind a sick feeling. I have a very special occupation. With special access.
“We have to get into that house,” Abe said.
“What about her psycho killer guards though?” Freya asked. “Plus, Henry and Delilah said she might be able to transport rare manuscripts. Victoria has a mansion in Santa Barbara. A penthouse in New York City. And an apartment in Paris. If she stole the Copernicus, she could have moved it or sold it already.”
Now it looked like Abe wanted to punch something.
“If I could convince her to let me see her private collection…” I started.
“I agree,” Freya said. “The psycho guards are a complication, but getting in to that Main Line mansion of hers would be a big help.”
“But then what?” Delilah asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Abe said firmly.
Delilah and I exchanged a look behind Abe’s back.
“Let me see if I can put you in Victoria’s path before the gala next week,” Freya said, dropping the punching bag. “The more face time with her, the better.”
“And I’ll go convince Francisco that we’re making progress,” Abe sighed.
Both of them began picking up their things, packing bags, extinguishing the fireplace. Delilah and I, however, seemed rooted to our respective spots.
“I should make it clear though,” Abe said, standing in the doorway to leave. “We are making progress, even if it doesn’t feel that way. You two did good work tonight.”
“Thanks, boss,” Delilah said.
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded.
The door closed but she still vibrated with energy, running a hand through her wild curls.
“Do you want me to hold the bag?” I offered.
She chewed on her lip, then shrugged casually. “Sure. Keep it still, okay?”
I walked over, gripped the bag tightly. She flexed her fingers, cracked her knuckles.
Whack whack whack.
“You told me that partners know how to read each other,” I said. She propped her hands on her hips, panting. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you’re…angry.”
She executed another series of jabs. “I’m not angry. I’m just stressed out about the case.”
She shook out her fingers, rolling her neck.
Avoiding my eyes.
“Delilah.”
Another series of jabs had the bag shaking against my hands. But I let her go, hoping she’d reach out and grab the olive branch I was offering her.
“I sounded desperate tonight with Victoria,” she finally admitted. “You had her in the palm of your hand, and I made us look like idiots.”
“That’s not true,” I countered. “You were right to ask. She basically left an opening for you to do it.”
“No, she didn’t.” She danced back on her toes. “I came off as overeager, and she admonished me like I was a disobedient child.”
“Hey,” I said softly. She didn’t stop. “Delilah, look at me.”
She stepped back, wiped her brow. Raised her blue eyes toward mine. I almost said you’re beautiful but I stopped myself this time.
“We’re under a lot of pressure. I feel it. Freya and Abe feel it. You heard what he said—we did a great job.”
“I’m supposed to be training you, Henry,” she said. “Showing you how to gain a target’s trust, which is a very delicate push and pull. I wasn’t delicate. I pushed too hard.”
“You also told me that you can’t always control the environment when you’re undercover,” I argued. “You just…stepped on a twig. Now we’re even.”
“Even?” She tilted her head with an almost-smile.
“You’ve seen me fuck up in the field about seventy times,” I said. Her lips twitched at the ends. “I’ve seen you fuck up barely once. It hardly seems fair.”
She sank back onto the edge of Freya’s table, pulling on a tee-shirt. “I don’t know what the fuck this case is, Henry. And I hate that.”
“I understand,” I said.
She studied me for a long time, as if she was about to make a hard choice. “Henry. Do you know where Bernard is?”
My brow furrowed—and then I realized what she was accusing me of.
“You can’t be fucking serious, Delilah.”