The Ptolemaic Queen - Page 2

The Ptolemaic Queen

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Re: The Ptolemaic Queen

Post by Melissa Finnigan on Wed Jun 17, 2015 7:21 pm

Tiny details. Of course he’d notice. It would be foolish to think he wouldn’t. This meant that Peter was going to get his wish. Licking her lips, Millie sat back in the chair, her fingers loosening around her glass.

She sighed and nodded.

A smirk broadened across Peter’s face and the firewhisky flowed a little bit more. The idea of black market gem stones didn’t scare Peter, either. In fact, Millie was sure his smirk had widened all the more.

She swallowed another mouthful of her coffee and nodded, continuing to listen.

“He had it for a long time,” Millie admitted readily. “But I don’t think he knows as much about it as he would like to think.”

“Let’s do that,” Peter agreed. “I think I know a place I can get my hands on some, myself.”

Millie raised an eyebrow at the man but didn’t say anything. Instead, she looked to Michael.

“Alright,” she agreed firmly. “Shall we meet back here in a week once we’ve got all that we need?”

“Sounds good to me,” Peter nodded.
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Melissa Finnigan
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Re: The Ptolemaic Queen

Post by Michael Tremaine on Mon Jun 29, 2015 2:41 am

"Agreed," Michael said. "I'll see what I can roust up from my sources that might whet his appetite a bit." He had his mind made up that it would have to be new to the market, and either obscure, or with a provenance that was well known enough to create a hunger from the outset. 

Not that the box didn't have enough provenance of its own.  That wasn't the point. Michael wanted an ample supply of breadcrumbs to drop to lure this foul buggar away from Millie. And more--enough to set a trap if they had to. Insurance. If they didn't need it, he could just as easily get rid of it all again.

"Can you keep yourself safe for that long, do you think?" he asked her.  He well knew that Millie could fend for herself. "Can you keep yourself hidden awhile longer if you need to?"

He reached in his pocket and slid an American dime across the table to her. Sizewise, it was the smallest and thinnest of the American coins. It had made a decent portkey.

"Just in case," he told her. It would take her to an old but quiet middle class neighborhood in London, to a safehouse--one Michael didn't use very much. It was an old attic apartment with skylights that, although Michael had once loved it a lot and used it frequently, he hadn't needed it over the last several years. He kept it up, though, just in case.  Well, Michael always had a contingency plan for just about everything. Old habits died hard.

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