Page 89 of Under Her Protection

Vivienne's hand, at the stem of the untouched glass, did not shake. She set the glass on the tray of a passing waiter, smoothed the silk at her hip once as if attending to a fold, and walked.

They walked.

They walked through the centre of the room at Vivienne's usual pace, not faster. They walked past the patron and her husband without stopping. They walked past the drapery in the south-east corner. Leo lifted the drapery. Vivienne went through. Leo went through. The small unmarked door was where it had been on Wednesday evening. Leo opened it with her free hand. They went down the service stair. Leo did not speak. Vivienne did not speak. At the foot of the stair, the pre-cleared safe room was a windowless box the size of a walk-in pantry, clean concrete, a single steel chair, a rolled-up evacuation bag in the corner, a camera in the ceiling that Avery, at HQ, was watching.

Leo closed the door behind them.

She slid the bolt.

She said "Inside," into her earpiece.

"Copy," Avery said. "He has been intercepted in the north corridor by foundation security. I have two Blackthorn bodies on him now. He is not armed. He is carrying a folder."

"A folder."

"A folder."

"Full of what."

"Printouts. Personal. From the Geneva server. He was going to put them on Vivienne's plate at the main course. I am looking at them now on the third camera. There is a photograph. There is a section of the Lara correspondence. There is a copy of the letter."

"In the Salle des Fêtes."

"On the plate."

"Copy."

"Stand down. He is in custody."

"Copy."

Leo took the earpiece out.

She set it on the steel chair.

She turned, and she looked at Vivienne, stunning in the black silk with the pearl studs in a walk-in pantry of the Musée d'Orsay at nine thirty-six on the first Thursday of December, and her hands, at her sides, were not quite steady.

"He was going to put it on your plate."

"I heard."

"In front of the Belgian collector and the British cultural attaché and the foundation board."

"I heard."

"He was going to humiliate you at a foundation gala in front of two hundred people in black tie."

"Leo."

"At your own table."

"Leo."

"I told you."

"Yes."

"On the telephone."