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  Ahead of her, Tweed Jacket walked briskly to the end of the platform and out of sight. She really was getting paranoid, Joss told herself. Clearly, he was just a tourist headed out for the day. Why shouldn’t he be alone? She was worried about nothing. If Bax thought there was a risk of them being tailed, he surely would have said something.

  Then again, he hadn’t been expecting her to go out.

  Joss made her way to the end of the platform. Tweed Jacket was off to whatever adventure he was having next and she was off to the convention center and the meeting with Ray. She turned into the first of the series of tunnels that would lead her through the levels of the Tunnelbana and eventually to the commuter rail station.

  The Blue Line that she’d ridden in on was the deepest of the three lines that intersected at Central Station. She worked her way along moving walkways that carried her up gradual rises until she reached the long escalator that would bring her toward the higher platforms.

  Here, the walls were plastered with ads for kitchen tools and department-store sales, interspersed with scenic tourist-board photographs of Götland. Joss looked across at the line of matching ads flanking the down escalator opposite her. Idly, she glanced back, down the steep slant of the moving stair.

  And saw Tweed Jacket riding the escalator below her.

  14

  BAX BURST INTO the room at the Royal Viking. It was empty, as he’d expected. As the T-bana station had been empty when he’d raced down the stairs, lungs burning, only to find the train long gone. Over his head, an electronic sign in mocking red had told him to expect a train in four minutes. He hadn’t bothered to wait. With no idea of where Joss was going, there was no point.

  Instead, he’d run back to the hotel.

  Now, he grabbed the note from the bureau, reading it with a curse. He crumpled it and threw it down, snatching up the cell phone. There was no answer to his call. Small surprise. Joss was probably too far underground to get a signal. If the phone wasn’t ringing, she wasn’t about to answer.

  Or maybe she couldn’t.

  He refused to give in to the cold crush of fear that filled his gut and instead concentrated on what he could do. The note said she’d gone to the expo. Bax tore off his running clothes and reached for jeans.

  THE ESCALATOR moved inexorably upward. Casually, Joss stared at the advertising signs across the way, watching Tweed Jacket with her peripheral vision, her heart pounding. The instant she’d turned to see him, he’d shifted as well, looking downward, making himself innocuous. He was there, behind her, where he had no business being. She’d walked off the platform behind him, she’d made sure of it, and now he was behind her again.

  He had to be one of Silverhielm’s men.

  Run. All of her instincts screamed for her to flee as adrenaline flooded her system. It was the wrong thing to do, though. Losing control would only make her a target.

  Instead, she made herself stand casually, looking as oblivious as she could manage. The longer she could go with him thinking she hadn’t made him, the more options she would have. His feet made a dull, metallic thud on the escalator steps as he moved closer to her. She had to find a way to ditch him so that he’d stay ditched. The last thing she wanted to do was lead him to Ray.

  She emerged onto the platform of the Green Line and found herself amid a crowd of people. Relief surged through her. People were protection, even if they were jostling and pushing to get to the train just coming to a stop in the station. The crowd could offer her camouflage, a chance to get away.

  If she hurried.

  Joss began to rush, pushing aggressively through the crowd, making him work to follow her. Making him abandon caution. If he were worried about losing her, he’d take chances, he’d make a mistake. She passed the end of the train, just steps from the escalator that would take her up to the level of the train station.

  And spun to run back down the platform, dashing through the closing doors of the last subway car.

  Tweed Jacket lunged after her, but it was too late. All he could do was stand on the platform and watch the train slide away.

  IT WASN’T a big deal, Joss told herself as she walked into the lobby of the convention center, trying to ignore the residual shakiness in her legs. She’d lost him and she was safe, and that was all that mattered.

  The expo hadn’t quite opened yet so she pulled out her cell phone. It was nearly ten o’clock. Time to find Ray. She punched up his number and waited for him to answer. “Ray? Hey, it’s Joss. I’m out in the lobby.” The missed call tone of her phone beeped in her ear but she ignored it.

  “Great.” His voice crackled out of the phone. “Get a seat at one of those round tables over by the windows and I’ll be right out.”

  “All right.”

  “Hey, are you okay? You don’t sound so good.”

  “I’m fine.” She was, now. It had taken her several stops after she’d left Central Station on the green line before she’d recovered enough to look at her transit system map and figure out where the heck she was going. Making sense of the tangle of colored lines with her rattled brain took another couple of stops, leaving her barely enough time to work out the sequence of transfers that would get her to the commuter rail without going through Central Station, where Tweed Jacket would doubtlessly be waiting for her.

  Now, though, anger was replacing anxiety. Now, the need for action drove her. She didn’t feel shaky, she felt energized and mad as hell. Edgy and tense, Joss found a table and then paced restlessly beside it, staring out at the greenery outside.

  The missed call was from Bax, but she didn’t get a response when she rang. Frowning, she switched it to mute and shoved it into her jacket pocket.

  “Glad you could make it.”

  She turned to see Ray behind her, standing next to a portly man in an expensive suit.

  “Good to see you, Ray,” she said, shaking hands with him.

  “I’ve got a person here who might be able to help you with your problem.”

  Person. Not friend, not colleague. An odd way to put it. “All right.” Joss put her hand out. “I’m—”

  Ray shook his head. “No names,” he said brusquely. “You guys talk and see if it gets you anywhere. I’m going into the exhibition.”

  The portly man took a seat at the table and looked at her calmly. His name badge was flipped backward so she could only see the name of the convention center and nothing else.

  Joss sat down in a chair to face him. “So, are you exhibiting here?”

  The man shrugged. “I am just walking the show, meeting with clients,” he said with an accent that sounded vaguely Germanic.

  “What do you do?”

  “I specialize in reproductions of famous stamps.”

  “Forgeries?”

  His eyes chilled. “No. Legitimate reproductions. I do not attempt to pass them off as true rarities. They are marked clearly on the back.”

  “Do you sell a lot of them?”

  “There is a market for reproductions. They are for those who want the thrill of owning a stamp beyond their means.”

  “And what if I wanted a reproduction of a famous stamp that wasn’t marked on the back?”

  He drew himself up. “I could not, of course, help you. I am a legitimate businessman. I do not contribute to fraud.”

  “Of course, if the buyer buys one of your reproductions and pastes it onto an envelope, the mark wouldn’t show,” Joss said thoughtfully. “He could pass it off as authentic, if he wanted to.”

  He shrugged. “The world is a perilous place for the gullible. My job is to manufacture and broker properly marked reproductions. What happens to them after the sale is beyond my control.”

  All very neat and convenient, she thought. Ray’s treatment of him suddenly made sense. “What if I wanted a version of a famous stamp that I could pass off as the real thing?”

  “I am sorry? I do not understand.”

  “What if I wanted a pair of extremely good reproductions?” Joss
kept her voice low, mindful of the exhibit attendees who were starting to circulate around the convention center lobby. “Something good enough to fool a knowledgeable amateur. They wouldn’t have to pass an expert, but they’d have to be very, very good. Front and back.”

  “And what are the stamps of interest?”

  “The Post Office Mauritius pair.”

  He nodded, digesting this. “It would be difficult,” he said finally. “I myself cannot do such things. As I said, I am a legitimate businessman. I have heard of a man in Amsterdam who perhaps accepts these sorts of commissions, however.”

  “How do I reach him?”

  The German gave her an oily smile. “I could, perhaps, make inquiries. How soon do you need these…reproductions?”

  “Two days, perhaps three.”

  “Just a moment, madame.” He rose and crossed the room, pulling out his cell phone to make a call. Minutes went by as Joss watched him.

  If he could be trusted, and she wasn’t at all sure he could be, he could help her get the forgeries. There was still the matter of cost, of course, not to mention timing. Late would be as bad as not at all. She wished passionately that Bax was there with her. He would know how to handle the German. Since he wasn’t, though, she’d have to do her best.

  The German walked back to the table and settled in his chair. “It is possible I have a way to contract this man in Amsterdam. Of course, such work as you require would take some investment. All the more so for such a rapid turnaround.”

  Which included his commission, no doubt. “Can I talk with him directly?”

  “Of course, but he is a very cautious man. The nature of his business, you understand.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “You must travel to him, meet him at the spot of his choosing. And it must be you alone. Do not attempt to bring another with you.”

  “Impossible. I’ve got a partner.”

  “You must leave the partner behind. Or take the partner with you, but give up your hope for the stamps.”

  “It’s a simple business deal.”

  “Madame, what you ask is not simple at all.”

  She could already imagine what Bax would say, but she didn’t see that there was a choice. “All right, if that’s the way he wants it.”

  “He insists, I’m afraid.”

  She tilted her head a bit and looked at him. “And what do you get out of all of this?”

  “Merely the satisfaction of bringing two interested parties together.”

  “Merely?”

  “Why, yes. Of course, it is a risk for me to give you this name. It is a risk for me to be associated with this business at all. I am a—”

  “Legitimate businessman,” she finished for him.

  “Indeed. However, if you wanted to make the arrangements proceed more smoothly, you might offer a token of your appreciation. After all, I still need to give you the name and location of the Amsterdam contact, and there are meetings to arrange…”

  A shakedown, in other words. Joss’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

  “I will leave that to you, but if your need is great, a thousand kroner would be a small price to pay. For my trouble, you see, and for international telephone calls.”

  “A legitimate businessman?” she asked sardonically.

  “It is a risky thing I do for you.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve never sullied yourself with this sort of business in the past.”

  “Certainly not, madame.”

  Joss dug in her pocket. “I wasn’t prepared for a shakedown. Would you take,” she fumbled in her pocket, “five hundred?”

  “I am not, despite what you think, a greedy man.” The bills disappeared smoothly into his pocket. “And in exchange, the information. Go to Amsterdam on Wednesday morning.”

  “He can’t come here?”

  “He is a man with very special skills and connections. Such men are very rare. If you wish to do business with them, you must go to where they are.”

  “Amsterdam.”

  “The choice is yours, madame.” He gave a shrug. “Perhaps your need is not so great.”

  She thought of Silverhielm and of the real Blue Mauritius, currently at risk. “What do I do?”

  “It is very simple. When you reach the city, call this number.” He handed her a small slip of paper. “When someone answers, ask to speak with Mr. Kant. They will instruct you where to go.”

  “How much money does he want?”

  “I cannot say for sure. Perhaps two hundred times what you paid me.”

  More than twelve thousand dollars, she thought in shock. “For a forgery?”

  “Madame, please.” He looked around quickly to see if anyone was watching. “It is no small thing you seek. There is great risk involved.”

  Translation, they knew she needed it and they could gouge her. “How can he expect that much?”

  “He expects nothing. You are the one who seeks something. If I were you, I would go prepared.”

  Joss nodded, thinking quickly. They’d have to fund this from Operation Recovery, as Gwen had called her poker tournament winnings. They had the money and Gwen, of all people, would appreciate anything that reduced risk to the Blue Mauritius. Still, it was hard to think of paying so much for something that had no intrinsic value.

  Then again, if it let them get the one-penny Mauritius back, it would be worth it.

  “All right. Are you going to let him know I’m coming?”

  “He expects you.”

  “Can I count on your confidence?”

  He shrugged. “Of course. After all, I do not know your name. Also, I do not wish to have my name associated with such questionable activities.”

  Although moral qualms certainly hadn’t stopped him from pocketing the money earlier. She had no doubt he’d collect more. “Thank you for your help.”

  “I am happy to be of assistance, madame. I wish you a safe journey.”

  Show up safely with your money, more like.

  He rose. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” She stood to watch him go.

  And looked up to see Bax staring at her from the entrance, face taut with some emotion she couldn’t name.

  15

  ANGER. HE WAS SURE it was anger whipping through him as she walked out of the glass doors to meet him and he moved to hold her, just hold her. He pressed his face against the soft tumble of her hair, breathing in her scent, absorbing the reality of her against him, healthy and whole. Until that moment, he hadn’t known just how certain he’d been that something had happened to her.

  And just how much that would have hurt.

  It hit him like the brutal, unforgiving shock of falling into a pool of very cold water. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. She was a client, nothing more. He was too smart to get emotionally caught up in her and lose his focus.

  So he loosened his hold on her and stepped away. “What were you thinking, going off like that?”

  Joss blinked at him. “Ray called and wanted to see me. You were gone. I left you a note.”

  “I saw it. That doesn’t answer my question. What was so important that you couldn’t wait?” he demanded.

  She walked past him into the semicircular entrance area with its cul-de-sac and line of taxis. “This isn’t the place to talk,” she hissed.

  He stalked after her, staying several paces away to remove himself from the temptation of touching her again. To forget the metallic taste of fear that had filled his throat when he’d reached the empty T-bana station. “You took a damn fool risk,” he ground out once they were on the shaded pathway that led to the commuter rail station up the hill.

  “I took a calculated risk,” she countered. “I wasn’t meeting Markus again. I was meeting someone we knew and it had to happen now. And I tried to reach you. You didn’t take your phone, you didn’t say when you’d be back. Am I supposed to read your mind?” She stalked away from him and turned back in frustration. “Why don’t you just ad
mit that you’re no better at this working together thing than I am?”

  And that quickly his anger ebbed away.

  “Look.” Joss took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I scared you. I knew you wouldn’t like it but I thought you would understand.”

  “You had a tail. I saw him as you were walking down the street.”

  “You saw? How? Where were you?”

  “Markus stopped me after my run. I was walking back from the torg when I saw you. I couldn’t catch you before you walked into the station.” And he remembered watching helplessly as she disappeared into the station with the tail behind her.

  “I thought I heard something as I was getting on the train but I wasn’t sure. That was you? It made me turn, and then I saw the same guy who’d been in the hotel lobby.”

  Bax raked a hand through his hair. “It scared the hell out of me, getting to the station and finding it empty,” he said unwillingly. “I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

  “It kind of threw me for a loop, too,” she confessed. “But I figured out a way to ditch him. Left him standing on a platform in Central Station,” she said in a proud tone.

  “No kidding?” Despite himself, he was impressed. “So you made it here without being followed?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I saw that I missed your call while I was on the T-bana but I couldn’t get an answer.”

  “It’s okay,” he told her, realizing that for the moment, anyway, it was. “So what did Ray have to say?”

  Joss moved away to sit on a nearby bench. “Actually, he mostly wanted to introduce me to a friend. Or not a friend, but someone he knows. I don’t think he thinks very highly of him, quite frankly.”

  “The one who was walking away when I came in?”

  “Yes. He makes reproductions of famous stamps.”

  “Forgeries?”

  “Reproductions marked on the back. Legal forgeries, I suppose, but they’re not good enough for what we want. He knows someone, though.”

  “What’s it going to cost us?”

  “A lot,” she said, and told him. “It’s not so much that we can’t afford it. I’ll call Gwen and have her wire it.”