He walked with more purpose than his classmates, stood a little straighter. And when he saw her, he didn’t even break stride.
“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t come all the way to Belgium for an education?” Nick pulled the straps of his backpack over his shoulders and squinted against the sun that reflected off the gold buttons on his private-school blazer.
“Oh, I’m definitely here to learn.” Kat couldn’t help but smirk as she stood and sidled closer.
“I’m sure you are.” Nick gave a wry laugh. “Do I have to ask how you found me?”
“This is the best international school in Brussels—all the European Union bigwigs send their kids here. Congratulations on your mom’s promotion, by the way. Interpol Liaison to the EU, very fancy.”
“Thanks,” he said. “Of course she hates it. Too desk-job-y.”
“I’ll tell my dad. I’m sure he’ll send his condolences.”
“I’m sure he will.”
Kat had to wonder for a minute what that would feel like—homework and uniforms, walks home with nice boys offering to carry your bag. That was her life once. Almost. But Hale had gotten her kicked out of the Colgan School, pulled her back into her own world, just like now he’d been pulled back into his.
“So why are you here, Kat?” Nick asked.
“Maybe I was craving waffles.”
“Kat…” He let her name draw out. “I’m pretty sure this is the part where you tell me you need my help to steal an emerald.” He laughed. “Or rob the Henley…”
Kat’s face stayed blank, but something in her eyes must have shifted, because Nick tensed.
“No.” It was like he’d read her mind, because he was already shaking his head, saying, “No. No. No. Just—”
“Hear me out, Nick.”
She touched his arm, but he jerked away. “Are you crazy?” he said. “No. Strike that. I know you’re crazy, but I didn’t know you had a death wish.”
“It’s not what it sounds like.”
“It never is with you, is it? And that’s the problem.”
“That’s hilarious coming from you.” Kat rolled her eyes. “I remember a time when you couldn’t wait to rob the Henley with me. Don’t you? Maybe I should ask your mother about it.”
“That’s probably not a good idea, Kat. She might be too busy trying to arrest your father.”
Kat started to fire back, but then stopped. Her breath slowed and she looked up at him. “Why are we fighting?”
He laughed a little. “I honestly have no idea.”
“Okay,” she said. “As long as I’m not the only one.”
They walked together down the cobblestone street, silent for a while until Kat said, “So, school, huh?”
“You know, these days a lot of teenagers are experimenting with formal education.”
“It’s a regular epidemic.”
Nick gave a slow, wide grin. “That’s kind of the idea.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kept walking. “So, where is he?”
Kat stopped cold on the street, and Nick guessed the truth.
“Wait. Are you telling me that you intend to rob the Henley—again—without Hale?” He sounded both confused and impressed.
“I’m doing it for Hale.”
Nick laughed. “You mean there’s something at the Henley W. W. Hale the Fifth can’t buy?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What else is new?” He looked off into the distance. “What do you need?”
“A blind spot. And someplace with no guard access overnight.”
“The Basil E. Frankweiler?” he asked with a grin. “Oh, Kat. You are the craziest genius I know.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Now, will you help me?”
“I would if I could, but my mom is a glorified bureaucrat now. She wouldn’t have that kind of information.”
“Come on, Nick. You and I both know that all the world’s museums keep their security specs on file with Interpol.”
“And Kat, you and I both know we’re not at Interpol.”
“You mean to tell me the official Interpol Liaison to the European Union doesn’t have database access?”
He couldn’t tell her that, and she knew it. So Nick shifted his backpack and started down the sidewalk. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The airport outside of Brussels was busy, but not busy enough, in Kat’s opinion. She kept her bag on her lap and her gaze on the tarmac. At the other end of the terminal a flight was being boarded for New York, and Kat was half tempted to catch it—to run all the way back if she had to, and beg Hale to forgive her; but forgive her for what, she didn’t exactly know.
“Mademoiselle McMurray,” the gate agent said, but Kat didn’t look up. Heavy gray clouds gathered outside, and Kat was trying not to think about the turbulence; her stomach was already lurching up and down. She’d felt queasy for days.
“Mademoiselle?” the woman said again, and Kat suddenly remembered that McMurray was the name on her passport. “We’re boarding.” The woman spoke English with a heavy French accent.
“Merci,” Kat told her, then picked up her bag, handed over her ticket, and joined the long line of passengers crossing through the glass doors and heading toward the plane.