With a shrug, Laura grinned, slipping her arm through his. "Easy come, easy go, isn't that what you always say?"
"So it is," he agreed, steering her toward the bar across the room.
"I just hope I'm not saying that about Harry soon,"
she sighed.
"Cognac," he told the waiter, then looked at Laura.
"White wine," she ordered, toying with a cocktail napkin sitting on the bar.
"I thought we'd discussed this already, my dear," Daniel responded. "Harry will join us as soon as he's worked through whatever is troubling him."
"I hope you're right."
"Why don't we see about taking your mind off of Harry for awhile?" he suggested, leaning closer. "I believe I've found us a sheep that's ripe for shearing," he confided, swirling his cognac in the balloon glass.
"Really? Who?"
"Look just over my shoulder at the Baccarat tables- A rather attractive dowager with blue hair- fairly dripping with diamonds."
Laura did as he suggested, and carefully hid her reaction by taking a sip of her wine. "Good lord." The woman was wearing diamonds, all right- as well as a white fur cape. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Gwendolyn Maxwell," Daniel informed her. "She's the widow of an Texas oil man. No children, only a poodle that she dies the same color as her hair," he sent Laura a warning glance as she giggled at his comment. "She ought to be good for a bit of change, I should think."
"I'd rather go after those diamonds," Laura mused, sighing over her drink.
"Honestly, Laura, you're as bad as Harry. They'd be impossible to fence for a worthwhile amount. Are you game?" he asked.
"How are we going to play it?"
"I thought we might try that scenario we were tossing about a few weeks ago," Daniel suggested.
"But- Harry's not here-"
"I am. And I believe that I can pull it off. Might even work better, with the age difference." Daniel placed a steadying hand on her arm. "Icy calm, my dear. You're ready for this."
Laura swallowed the rest of her wine in one gulp, then took a deep breath and slid from the stool. "Here goes nothing."
"Don't worry. I'll be right behind you."
She gave him a tight smile, then wove her way through the crowd to stand near the fur clad woman, watching as she continued her winning streak.
***
"Everything checked out, Mr. Pearson," David Morgan, head of security for the Lavulite exhibit said as he approached Harry.
Harry smiled as if he'd never been in doubt of the check Morgan had run on his alias. "Excellent."
"They *were* a bit surprised that you were here already, however. They didn't think you were arriving until tomorrow evening."
"Bureaucracy," Harry said, lifting his shoulders and chuckling. "They never know what's going on in the main office." Seeing two familiar faces enter the exhibit hall, Harry stopped behind a potted plant, where he wouldn't be easily spotted by Kessler or Neff.
Morgan turned to look at him. "Is everything all right, Mr. Pearson?"
Harry pretended an intense interest in the plant. "Gardening's a hobby of mine. Interesting plant."
"It's plastic," Morgan pointed out, frowning slightly beneath his black rimmed glasses.
Harry brushed the leaves. "So it is. Looks astonishingly real."
"Are you ready to take a look at the security we've set up for the gems now?"
Harry peered through the shiny green faux-leaves, watching as the two men left the desk and entered the lift. "By all means, Mr. Morgan. Please. Lead on."
***
As Gwendolyn Maxwell finally rose from her chair, Laura spoke. "Amazing run of luck," she drawled in her best Texan accent.
Gwendolyn stopped, staring. "You're from Texas, aren't ya?"
"Born and bred," Laura admitted. "I've been watchin' you play that game. I've never seen anyone win that much money playin' it." She laughed. "I don't even understand what it's all about."
Gwendolyn smiled, and slipped her arm through Laura's. "What's your name, honey?"
"Laura-Lou Holt."
"Well, Laura-Lou Holt, why don't you have a drink with me at the bar? Winning money always makes me thirsty. And you can tell me how a pretty little thing like you got here all the way from Texas."
Across the room, Laura glanced at Daniel and subtly touched the side of her nose. He returned the movement, then lifted his glass toward her. She'd gotten in the front door, it seemed. Now, she just had to get further into the house.
***
Harry examined the security measures without appearing *too* interested, realizing that with Kessler and Neff on the scene, he had to move fast. Those two wouldn't wait very long to have a go at Lavulite. At the moment, the gems were safely tucked away in the exhibit hall vault- and were scheduled to go on display the next evening during a charity gala.
He wished Mr. Morgan a good evening, and turned toward the doors of the building- only to find two sets of eyes fixed on him with menacing intent. Keeping as many people as he could between his location and those two gentlemen, Harry made his way to the doors and grabbed the door of the nearest taxi. Giving the driver his destination, he slipped the man a twenty. "And let's not loiter about here, eh, my good man?" he said.
The man's teeth showed white in his dark face as he nodded and accelerated away from the curb. Harry turned to watch as Kessler and Neff reached the roadway just as the car got away. He sketched them a salute, and saw Neff start toward another cab.
But Kessler held his partner back, shaking his head, saying something.
Harry turned to face the front of the taxi, his smile fading. Kessler hadn't looked at all like a man happy to see a fellow miscreant. If they ever met face to face, he had the feeling that Leo Neff's switchblade might make intimate acquaintance with his ribs.
All of Harry's elaborate planning wasn't out the window- but he *was* going to have to move the timetable up just a bit.
***
"Where're ya from, Laura Lou?" Gwendolyn asked as she picked up the glass of bourbon that she'd ordered.
"I doubt you've heard of the place. Just a dusty stop in the road, not much of a town, really. Couldn't wait to get out of there."
"But ya did. How'd ya end up here?"
Laura pretended that the question made her uncomfortable. "I'm here with a- a friend," she stammered softly, staring at her glass of wine before starting to rise from her chair. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, Mrs. Maxwell," she said.
"Make it Gwen, honey. And you're not goin' anywhere. Now sit down and tell old Gwen what's wrong." The woman's Texas twang faded a bit, as if most of it was simply for show.
"Wrong?" Laura repeated, adopting a look of fear and innocence combined. "I didn't say that-"
"You didn't have to. I can't smell trouble a mile away. And you've got trouble. It's a man, isn't it?"
"Mrs. Maxwell-"
"It's always a man, honey. And my friends call me Gwen. I got a hunch you could use a friend about now." Laura felt Daniel's approach and deliberately went tense, aware that Gwen couldn't help but notice.
"There you are," he said. "I wondered where you got off to, my dear," he said. "I thought we agreed that you wouldn't leave the room?"
"I got bored," Laura explained nervously.
"And who might you be?" Gwen asked, her dark eyes fixed on Daniel, who had placed a proprietary hand on Laura's shoulder.
Laura flinched as Daniel shook her shoulder. "Where are your manners, my dear? Aren't you gong to introduce me to your new friend?"
"Gwendolyn Maxwell," Laura began, then licked her lips in a show of hesitation. "Nigel Hamilton."
Daniel's smile was as fake as his name. "Madame. Forgive me, but I'm afraid I have to steal your new friend away."
"Must you?" Laura questioned, then winced as Daniel's fingers tightened on her shoulder. "I mean-"
"Now, Laura, dear," Daniel replied smoothly, his hand now caressing the shoulder. "I don't have to remind you about how important our appointment is, do I?"
"No. No, you don't."
"Appointment?" Gwen asked nosily.
"Business," Daniel said. "Ready, Laura?"
Laura nodded jerkily, keeping her eyes down, the picture of embarrassment. "Thank you, Mrs. - Gwen," she said quietly.
"I'm in Room 432, honey," Gwen told Laura. "If you need to talk."
"She'll be too busy, I'm afraid," Daniel said, taking Laura's arm to lead her away. "It was nice meeting you. Let's go, my dear."
Laura moved stiffly away, like a woman going to her own funeral- or she hoped that was the impression she was giving the mark. "Is she still watching?" Daniel asked when they turned toward the lifts.
Managing a quick glance back, Laura said, "She is. And if looks could kill, you'd be twelve feet under right now."
"Let's just hope she's taken the bait. Ready to set the hook?"
"Ready," she said, then shook off his hold on her arm, still in full view of Gwen's angry gaze. "I don't want to," she said loudly, causing a few others to turn and look at them. "Please don't make me-"
"You're going, my dear, and that's that," Daniel declared, grabbing her arm again, this time with a firmer grip. "No more of your arguments. I paid good money to bring you here- now it's time you earned your keep." He practically dragged her to the lifts, as she pleaded with him to reconsider.
"Please, Nigel. No. Please!"
As the doors closed, Laura saw Gwen approaching one of the onlookers who had heard the conversation. Alone at last, Laura sagged against Daniel. "How did I do?"
"You were nothing short of perfect," he told her, giving her a hug. "Harry would be proud."
Laura looked up at him, some of the delighted light fading from her eyes. "I wonder what he's doing now?" she asked.
"Probably having a solitary drink before bed," Daniel replied, rubbing her arm. "I hope I didn't leave any bruises," he fretted, trying to change the subject.
***
Harry slipped easily into the exhibit hall through a rear entry that he had rigged during his tour. He found the air conditioning control room, and opened a vent access panel. Climbing into the narrow vent, he pulled the panel back into place, then checked his watch. He had three minutes to get to the security control room before the guards left the room for their rounds.
The shaft was just big enough for Harry to slide through it. At the security room, he peered through the vent screen, then frowned and looked at his watch again. The two guards should have been just leaving the room to patrol the building- but there was no sign of them.
Very carefully, Harry slipped the latch on the screen and pushed it out, then dropped into the room. Something didn't feel right about this. Harry's internal alarm was at full tilt. He took a step around the desk, then stopped upon seeing one of the guards laying on the floor. A quick examination revealed a knife wound in the man's back- in the precise spot where the Paris museum owner had been stabbed. "Neff," Harry muttered, glancing toward the bank of security monitors.
Rising to his feet, he saw that the one marked "vault room" was dark. A quick examination of the equipment revealed that the switch for that camera had been turned off- so Harry turned it back on- and stared in shock.
Raymond Kessler was working on trying to open the heavy black safe while his rat-faced partner Neff held the second guard face first against the wall, the end of the switchblade pressed to the man's back. All he had to do was press the button . . . "Damn," Harry said.
The gems were out of reach, but Harry refused to let Kessler and Neff succeed either. He left the security room and moved cautiously down the darkened corridor, making sure to avoid the cameras. Near the vault room, he heard Neff's voice.
"Com'on, Ray. Whot's takin' so long, mate?"
"You won't shut up," Ray Kessler accused. "I can't hear the tumblers with you yammering."
Harry sidled up to the door, carrying a mop that he had picked up from a janitor's closet. He tossed a can of cleanser across and down the corridor, shattering the silence.
"Whot was that?" Leo asked.
"Check it out," Raymond ordered.
"And who's gonna watch 'im?" Leo countered.
"Okay. Stay here. I'll be right back."
As Raymond Kessler left the room, Harry brought the mop handle down on the man's head, sending him to the floor, stunned. Harry heard something behind him, but before he could turn around, he felt a sharp pain in his back, and gasped.
"You just keep getting' in our way," Leo snarled as Harry slid to the floor. Leo went to Kessler. "Com'on, Ray. We gotta get out of 'ere."
"The gems-" Kessler mumbled groggily as Neff helped him up. "One more try."
Harry waited until the two men were back in the vault room, then forced the pain aside to rise shakily to his feet. He managed to get back to the security room, where he appropriated the dead guard's handkerchief to press against his wound. On the monitor, he saw that Kessler still hadn't broken into the vault. A wave of dizziness overcame him, and he put a hand on the control panel to steady himself. As his vision cleared, he noticed that he had almost pressed the alarm button. Another glance at the monitor, and Harry deliberately brought his hand down on the button this time, sending peals of ringing echoing through the building.
Kessler and Neff looked up from the vault. "The alarm!" Neff said over the noise. "The coppers'll be here any minute!"
"Let's get out of here," Kessler decided.
A good idea, Harry agreed silently. Still blocking the pain, he managed to get back into the air shaft and secure the grate behind him, then left the building the way he'd entered it.
Once on the street, he paused, hearing the sound of police car sirens blaring. It wasn't safe in London for him right now. The South of France was looking better and better.