It was the oddest sort of museum that any of them had ever seen, so they turned slowly, taking the whole sight in.
“Forgive the mess,” Charlie said, pushing aside a pile of canvases to clear a place on a faded wingback chair. “Haven’t had company in a few days.”
Or years, Kat thought, remembering the long snowy drive. She stood quietly, watching Hale’s gaze sweep over the room, waiting for his eventual, “Um…Charlie?”
The old man jumped a little at the sound of his own name, but still managed to mutter, “What?”
“Is that a real Michelangelo?” Hale pointed to a sculpture that sat in the corner, covered with hats and scarves and dust.
“Of course it is.” Charlie patted the sculpture on the back. “Nadia helped me steal it.”
Gabrielle and Hale seemed almost afraid to look at Kat then, as if the mention of her mother’s name might be too much for her. Only Charlie seemed immune to the silence.
“Now that’s one of mine.” He pointed to the Rembrandt on the wall, dusty and old and perfectly identical to the one that had hung above Uncle Eddie’s fireplace all of Kat’s life. The original didn’t matter. Not to Kat. Not when there were two perfect forgeries hanging a few thousand miles apart, like a portal linking two totally different worlds. When Kat looked at Charlie’s painting, she tried to see how it might differ from its twin, but the differences were not a matter of canvas or paint. The differences, Kat knew, were in the paintings’ lives.
“You look just like your mother.”
Kat jerked, her uncle’s voice pulling her back into the room and the moment. She felt her eyes begin to water and knew she wasn’t the only one seeing double.
“Yeah.” Kat wiped her eyes and hoped no one noticed. “I guess I do.”
When Kat moved toward him, she thought that he might bolt and run, but instead he caught her arm and held her there. His hands were covered with varnish and stain—an artist’s hands. Unburned and unscarred. And yet he just squeezed harder, tighter than a vise. There was something real about the master forger when he stared into her eyes and said, “Does he know you’re here?”
Kat shook her head. “No.”
When he released Kat’s arm and dropped into a chair, Gabrielle grabbed a footstool and pulled it closer. “Uncle Charlie,” she started, “we have a job—a big one.”
“You have a job?” he asked, then laughed, quick and hard. “Where’s your mother?” he chided.
“She’s busy,” Gabrielle told him. “And we’ve pulled plenty of jobs on our own.”
“I don’t suppose you heard about the Henley?” Hale said, but his smooth smile broke when faced with Charlie’s glare.
“Beginner’s luck,” the old man countered.
“We can do this, Uncle Charlie.” For the first time in her life, Gabrielle sounded like someone who genuinely needed someone else’s approval. “We’ve got a plan.”
“You’re children,” the old man hissed.
“Like Nadia was a child?” Gabrielle said. “And my mother. And—”
“Don’t touch that,” Charlie snapped, and Hale inched away from the Ming vase that held an assortment of ratty old umbrellas.
“We came a long way to see you, Charlie,” Gabrielle said.
The old man cut his eyes at her. “The ride is always easier on the way down.”
“We wouldn’t have come if there was anything in this world you couldn’t make,” Gabrielle said, not flirting; not lying. It was in no way a con when she told him, “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t need the best.”
“I am the best.” It was the sure and steady voice of someone who knows that it’s true. And yet, Kat couldn’t help but notice that he rocked slightly at the waist. The artist’s hands trembled. “I’m retired,” he said, looking away. “And your uncle doesn’t want you here.”
“You’re our uncle too,” Gabrielle protested just as Kat eased onto the stool and caught her uncle’s eyes.
“Someone is using one of the Pseudonimas, Uncle Charlie,” she said, and watched him turn as pale as the snow. “Have you heard that?”
“It’s not me,” he snapped.
“I know.” Kat reached for his hand, but he flinched and pulled away. “I know,” she said again, softer this time. “But I need your help, you see.”
“We,” Hale inserted.
“We need to do a job for Visily Romani.” Kat took a deep breath. “We need the Cleopatra Emerald.”
And in a flash they were there—the steely resolve and power of will that Kat had seen so often on the face of Uncle Eddie. “No!” the man snapped, rising from the chair and pushing across the room with so much force Kat almost lost her balance.
She struggled to her feet, but the man didn’t stop, didn’t turn as Kat went on.
“The Kelly Corporation is moving the emerald to its corporate headquarters in New York two days from now, and we have to steal it, Uncle Charlie. Visily Romani needs us to steal it.”
“No one has to steal the Cleopatra Emerald. Eddie knows that. We know that. We know…We learned that lesson the hard way.” He turned to Gabrielle. “You should go.”
“Charlie, please.” Despite her smaller than average size, Kat crossed the room in three long strides.
“I can’t make that in…It can’t be…I’d need…”
“I’ll get you whatever you need,” Hale said.
“It cannot be done!” The old man yelled so loudly that Kat half feared an avalanche. “I can’t make that. I can’t make it. I can’t…”
“We don’t need you to make us a fake Cleopatra Emerald, Uncle Charlie.” Kat’s voice was low and kind and even. When she touched his arm, he didn’t pull away. “We just need you to give us the one you’ve already got.”
CHAPTER 10
Somewhere between the airport and the brownstone, the others must have fallen asleep. Kat watched Gabrielle curl into a tiny ball like a kitten while Hale splayed across the limo’s backseat, long legs and arms, and a head that, on occasion, would drift onto Kat’s shoulder in a way she couldn’t bring herself to mind.