The bank smelled of floor wax and old money.
Nora stood in the doorway of Ravenport First, between two bronze doors the size of barn gates, and felt the hush close over her like water. Marble underfoot, in black and white. A ceiling forty feet up, painted with allegorical figures bearing sheaves of wheat. A line of brass teller cages, and behind them, solemn as undertakers, a row of men in gray waistcoats pretending not to look at her.
The locket lay against her collarbone under her blouse. It was cool, and it was heavy, and she felt every ounce of it.
"Left," Adrian murmured at her ear. "Past the potted palm. Two electricians by the pillar. One more on the mezzanine."
"I see them."
"Don't look."
She did not. She kept her eyes ahead and her face smooth. He walked beside her in a dark
