LURKING AT THE PERIPHERY of the museum cafe, Ivan stood watch over Finn as she sat, exposed, at a table, waiting for the collector. A twitter of some unnamed emotion flittered through his stomach. He couldn't quite place it. Perhaps this was fear.
She had a notepad out in front of her, posing as a reporter who wanted to do a social interest piece about the man's philanthropy and one-of-a-kind collection. He doubted her cover or her chosen pseudonym — Ms. Margie Mason — would fool the man, but she'd stubbornly insisted on this plan.
Ivan looked at the time on his phone: the man was late. The museum would close soon. He huffed and looked back at Finn. He knew this lure wasn't going to work. They should have just charged in on the man and beaten him until he talked or was unable to.
"Stop
