Chapter 10: Brunch

I texted her back at dawn.

Public place. Today at noon. The Meridian Foundation brunch downtown. Bring what you promised.

Yvette answered in four seconds.

I'll save you a seat.

"You're not going alone," Jonas said.

It was the third time he'd said it that morning, and the third time I'd ignored it.

"I'm going in with a wire in my ear and a man outside who can see every camera in the building," I said.

"That's not alone."

"That's a trap."

"That's a plan," I said. "You taught me. Last night."

He went slightly pink, and Oz gagged into his cereal.

By noon on Monday I was sitting at a round table in a chandelier ballroom.

I wore a dress Oz had borrowed from his sister.

A tiny speaker the size of a grain of rice sat in my left ear.

"Test," Jonas murmured, from the van across the street.

"Say something nice."

"Your voice is clear," I whispered, and sipped water.

"That's not nice."

"It's the nicest thing I've got until we're done."

About eighty guests filled the ballroom.

Women in pastel suits, men in good watches, waiters with trays of tiny eggs.

A banner at the front read THE JONAS WRAY FUND FOR YOUNG ENGINEERS, with the smiling headshot beneath it.

Yvette arrived at 12:05.

She wore cream silk and her platinum hair gleamed.

The room turned toward her.

She kissed cheeks all the way down the room, squeezed hands, wiped a single tear at the right moment.

At my table she sat down in the empty chair.

"Melinda," she said warmly. "May I call you Melinda? You look lovely."

"Where's Palmer?"

"He's detained. I'm his voice." She picked up her napkin. "You got my message."

"I got your picture."

"Did you like it?" Her eyes glinted. "It's a lovely room. I'm sure you have a lovely view of the street."

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