Chapter 98: Bain

Sunday. Fine Art Gallery, London, UK.

"THAT IS NOT WHAT happened," Bain said the moment the door closed.

"You be quiet!" Uwe pushed to his feet, those darkly dangerous eyes of his focused on Bain. "I remember Barcelona."

He ground his teeth together.

That bitch.

"That was different," he insisted.

"Was it? Was it really?" Uwe slowly came out from behind the desk and prowled toward Bain.

It was easy to forget how long the old man had been at this job and how dangerous he could be. The suits, glasses and thinning hair made most people assume he was weak. Bain could attest to the fact that Uwe Magness was anything but a weak, frail old man.

He came to stand directly in front of Bain and prodded his chest with a finger.

"What you do in your own time is your business-so long as it does not involve what is mine. She is mine. Not yours. Mine. Do you understand?"

The wrong answer would cost Bain dearly.