"I've been through your litigation proforma," Elijah said, setting it down. "Your stepsister Scarlet is the primary opponent. Do you believe she's also behind the attempts on your life?" "Probably. Among others. It's—complicated. There's—" "Ahem." Guiscard cleared his throat pointedly, caught himself, and extended a hand across the table. "I apologize for the interruption. Chevalier de Guiscard. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wood." "The pleasure is mine." Elijah shook it. The grip on both sides was firm and measured—the handshake of two men who had immediately decided to be careful about each other. Ashley watched the exchange with quiet attention. Polite on the surface. Something cooler underneath. Two men in a room who had each, within about thirty seconds, determined that the other was neither a fool nor an obstacle to be dismissed easily. She found she wasn't entirely opposed to this dynamic. "Mr. Guiscard," Elijah said once the bodyguard had settled, "I've just received confirma

"Methods, conditions, lore," Ashley went on. "Whatever the record has." Bartholomew smoothed his mustache and looked at the check the way men of his generation looked at things they hadn't expected to receive. "A strange research question," he murmured. "And not an easy one. But Anthropology and Sociology are underfunded here—have been for years. This could change that considerably." He straightened. "I'll put a team of interns on it immediately." "I'm grateful, Professor." Ashley shook his hand, made her exit, and descended back into the city. Tessa was waiting at the mall. "He asked you out?!" "Please keep your voice down." Ashley stepped off the escalator onto the sixth floor of East Norwich Mall, where Gucci and Prada and Tom Ford lined the corridor in a row of well-lit abundance. "But yes. He asked me to dinner." "And you said yes? How fast?" "More or less immediately." Tessa processed this with the expression of someone doing difficult math. "Okay, I'm not even mad. I'v

Guiscard looked at them with the expression of a man who has just done something fairly routine and is mildly concerned about how it's being received."Yes, ma'am," he said.Ashley's mouth opened and then closed."How," she said."I found one of their couriers this morning."He crouched and began cutting the zip ties—Ashley's first, then Tessa's, his movements unhurried."The courier had the password, the access schedule, and a description of the room layout. I had the actual planner they were waiting for detained elsewhere, took his position, and waited."He glanced up. "The mask helped. None of them had met Bob in person.""You've been in here this whole time," Ashley said. "While we were being marched through the mall by two women with guns.""I was in position before you reached the elevator." He stood. "It was the more efficient choice. I couldn't intercept you above ground without risking the firearms they were carrying in a public space.""You could have told me.""There wasn't

Elijah Wood stood, buttoned his jacket, and did not raise his voice."Mr. Grayson. A moment of your time, since you've been so generous with everyone else's." He turned slightly, addressing the doorway crowd the way he might address a jury. "For the fifty or so witnesses currently enjoying the show—please, keep enjoying it. Every word helps."Jake's grin faltered. "Helps what?""Defamation, spoken to an audience, is called slander. Slander of a public figure, with malice, witnessed by a room full of strangers with camera phones—" Elijah picked an invisible thread from his sleeve— "is called exhibit A. Most defendants make me subpoena their worst moments. You're catering yours. With a toast."A ripple of laughter moved through the main floor. Jake's jaw ticked."You think I'm scared of a lawsuit? I keep firms like yours in my petty cash—""No," Elijah said mildly. "You're not scared of a lawsuit."He stepped around the table, closed the distance, and dropped his voice to a register mea