Unfortunately, hope was a fragile thing, a mirror easily shattered.

“You do realize that, in spite of the precautions and security Mr. Jones will provide, we have to assume Loring will try to cheat tonight,” she said when the silence in the front of the SUV became oppressive.

“Sure,” North said. “Just business as usual when you’re dealing with the bad guys.”

CHAPTER 39

Idon’t like this,” North said.

“Believe it or not, I know what I’m doing,” Sierra said. “And so does Mr. Jones. Under other circumstances I wouldn’t be using his special services. But given those crazy Puppets that Loring is running, it makes sense to purchase the security upgrade. Besides, Las Vegas is paying for it. Arganbright can afford it.”

“I understand. But when I gave that crystal tuner to Jones this evening I lost control of it. It’s my only leverage.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Jones is handling this exchange personally,” Sierra said. “He knows an artifact when he sees one. He won’t hand over your tuner unless he’s sure he’s got the night gun.”

“He’s never even seen a night gun.”

“Neither have we. But you gave him a description, and if it’s the real deal it will be very hot,” Sierra said. “It’s not as if you can fake that kind of heat.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not happy about losing control of the tuner. I get that.”

They were sitting in her booth in the basement level of the Vault. There were two glasses of sparkling water on the table. The music from the club on the upper level reverberated through the floorboards that formed the ceiling. It was twelve thirty. Most of the tables and booths were occupied. This was the busy time of night for those who dealt in the paranormal. In the shadowed corners of the club, deals were going down. Buyers and sellers were scheduling deliveries with go-betweens.

Two hours ago she had delivered the tuner to Jones. He had disappeared with it and several members of his security team.

Sierra’s phone pinged. Even though she had been expecting the message, she was startled. She glanced down. Exchange completed. Private quarters.

“Here we go,” she said.

She slid out of the booth. North joined her. They went toward an unmarked door. It opened just as Sierra raised her hand to knock. A woman in her twenties who was dressed as a Vault security guard smiled.

“Hi, Sierra,” she said. “Mr. Jones is expecting you. Downstairs in the showroom. You know the drill.”

“I do,” Sierra said. “Thanks, Ally.”

“Congratulations on a major deal, by the way.” Ally surveyed North. “A Foundation client, no less. Sweet. That outfit has money, and they always pay their bills.”

It occurred to Sierra that her reputation as a go-between was going to go up several notches if all went well tonight.

“Thanks,” she said again.

She walked through the door with North at her heels. They descended another set of steps into a sleek, contemporary office. The door above closed, cutting off the last of the throbbing music.