Page 2 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

Nadia frowned. “We don’t have that far to walk to the Metro station. You can just put your hands in your pockets.”

“I could, but I really don’t want to lose my gloves.” Marit wasn’t going to take the time to explain to Nadia that Lars had given them to her for Christmas and—quite apart from the fact that they were her favorite pair—he’d notice right away if she stopped using them.

“When was the last time you wore them?” Esmee asked.

“On my way here.” Marit closed her bag with a frustrated sigh. “It must have dropped out of my bag in Ralph’s office when I grabbed my hat.” With resignation, she eyed the congestion around the lift. “It’s going to take a while to get back to the sixth floor. You two don’t need to wait. I’ll go up and see if Ralph will let me into the office again, and then I’ll meet you back at the flat afterward.”

“Okay.” Nadia didn’t hesitate. Marit could hardly blame her. She was probably as anxious as Marit was to take off her high heels and put on some slippers.

“You know the Metro stop you need?” Esmee asked.

“Madeleine,” Marit said.

Esmee nodded. “All right. We’ll see you soon.”

Moving against the flow of people, Marit made her way back to the lift. The wait seemed interminable, and when the doors finally opened, another flood of people exited. She waited until the lift was empty, walked in, and pushed the button for the sixth floor. The lift went up one floor and stopped. The doors opened to a cluster of office employees, each anxious to go home.

“It’s going up,” Marit said in French.

Ignoring the grumbles, she pushed the door closed and prepared herself to repeat the same warning four more times.

By the time she reached the sixth floor, the receptionist’s chair was empty and the lights in the foyer were dimmed. Hurrying toward Ralph’s office, she scanned the hall for a chink of light beneath a door. Fashion Week—with all its crazy, last-minute madness—began next Monday. Even if Ralph had resolved Maggie’s pressing issue and they’d both managed to leave in the last twenty minutes, there had to be someone working late tonight.

She strained her ears. There were voices coming from somewhere. The end of the hall, maybe? She continued past three closed doors and had reached Ralph’s office when she heard the hum and click of an electronic lock. She frowned. It had sounded as though it had come from inside Ralph’s office, but no light showed beneath the door. Seconds later, the door handle shifted. Startled, Marit stepped back three paces. The door opened, and the man who’d called out to Ralph earlier appeared. He was wearing a jacket and gloves, and his unruly hair was covered by a navy knit hat. A canvas messenger bag was slung over his shoulder, and in his hand, he held a phone.

The moment he saw Marit, his jaw tightened. “What are you doing here? Ralph’s gone.”

“I think I dropped my glove in his office.” When the man didn’t immediately invite her in, she continued. “I was hoping to check to see if it’s under the chair where I was sitting.”

He glanced up and down the hall. “Be quick,” he said, flipping on the light and finally stepping aside so she could enter. “I had to drop something off for Ralph, but he doesn’t like anyone in here when he’s not around.”

Marit wasted no time. She crossed to the armchair where she’d been sitting, and a wave of relief washed over her. Her missing glove was lying in plain sight, right beside the plum-colored cushion.

“Got it!” she said, raising it so he could see. “Thanks so much for letting me in.”

He gave a curt nod, his attention on the hallway rather than on her. “Come on, then. I need to get going.”

Marit stepped into the hall, but not before noticing that Ralph’s desk was as clear of papers now as it had been earlier. Whatever the man had delivered had not been left on the desk. She glanced at the closet door keypad reflecting back the overhead light. Perhaps that was the lock she’d heard from the hall. He must have put something in there instead.

Keeping his back to her, the man pulled the door shut and tugged on the handle to make sure it was locked. Satisfied, he hiked the strap of his messenger bag a little higher on his shoulder. A ping sounded, announcing the arrival of the lift. Marit turned toward the lobby in time to see the lift doors open. A man dressed in a custodian’s uniform stepped out, dragging a cart behind him.

“If we hurry, we might be able to catch the lift,” she said, starting down the hall.

The man didn’t reply. She turned her head to repeat herself, but he had disappeared. Puzzled, she studied the empty hall. Either he’d slipped into another room, or one of those doors led to a staircase. No matter which it was, he obviously wasn’t interested in catching the lift. The lift doors thudded closed, and she stifled a groan. Her hesitation had cost her. Goodness only knew how long she’d have to wait until it came back up. She’d just have to hope that the custodian now emptying the bins in the foyer was a little friendlier than the other man had been.

Chapter 2

Cole stood in the darkelectrical access closet and pressed the button on his watch to illuminate the time. Any minute, the guard should pass by and take the elevator to the next floor down. Cole had already spent two nights hiding in here to time his approach and set up a visual override of the security cameras in the hallway.

Cole’s boss at the CIA had lent him to the Brussels field office specifically to break through the defenses of Lamar Peeters’s headquarters and infiltrate his private office.

Interpol and the CIA both suspected Peeters himself had been involved in the theft of the designs of a new military drone, a theft that had occurred only last week. If their sources were correct, Peeters intended to sell the designs to the highest bidder in a matter of days.

The mere thought of such advanced weaponry falling into the wrong hands sent a shudder through Cole. Ready or not, tonight he had to make his move and recover those schematics.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Cole counted off the seconds to when the guard would reach the elevator. The elevator dinged.

Cole waited for the hum of the doors opening and closing before he engaged the override on the cameras. Then he pressed his watch again, this time engaging the timer. Ninety seconds until the laser sensors would activate. Thirty-nine minutes to break into Peeters’s office and get back out of sight.

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