“I’m aware. I’m willing to spend my lifetime restoring this legacy.”
“I’ll be in touch,” he said, ending the call.
Reynard found “legacy” an odd choice of word by Mademoiselle Brewer. But he, perhaps more than anyone, understood the need to possess, and often, even that brief feeling of possession could leave a lasting imprint. Reynard knew for a fact that Elizabeth Reardon Brewer, this future captain of industry, this product of the right schools and the right breeding, had never actually owned the collection sought. Nevertheless, some seminal event had conveyed a profound sense of ownership.
Reynard didn’t much care one way or the other. He had always been more concerned with the “how” than the “why” of any given matter. And the “how” of this undertaking made him positively giddy. He glanced briefly at the diamond and jade rosary that sat encased in glass on his desk. Its value was negligible, but it was his first heist, stolen from the pocket of a mourning woman at the church where he worshiped as a boy. Reynard ran his fingers over the case. There had been several milestones in his life that had been equally rewarding, but this current endeavor had the potential to surpass them all. So, with an uncharacteristically optimistic sense of purpose, he set to work.
Then, like a spray of bullets to a chandelier, a terse announcement from his man at the door shattered his Panglossian outlook.
“Sir, there is a problem.” The assistant nodded toward the blinking light on the phone indicating a caller was holding.
Reynard snatched up the phone without salutation. “Out with it.”
He pinched his chin between his thumb and the side of his forefinger as he listened to the events that had unfolded in Las Vegas. He had been in this business for five decades. He had seen it all. He wasn’t a man who resorted to baser tactics unless absolutely necessary. Most problems could be handled with the fine art of persuasion.
“The courier, he is dead, yes?” Reynard asked.
“Yes, sir. He was dead when the EMTs arrived.”
“Saves me the trouble.”
“Should I retrieve the package?”
“This man with my property? You know who he is?”
“He passed out business cards when he walked in the room.”
“Send me the information.”
Reynard ended the call and immediately entered a number he knew by heart. This situation required competence and intelligence, but more importantly, it required finesse.
He needed Caleb Cain.