far end by a fragile-looking tracery of iron, a slender finger of blue projected out from the building that climbed up the face of the bluff.
“What is that?” Joss asked.
“Gondolen. It’s a restaurant bar, very fashionable. The strutwork at the far end is the Katarinahissen, an elevator that takes you up to the public walkway on top. It’s a pretty amazing view.” Propped up on one side by the office building and across the street by the Katarinahissen, the restaurant hovered high in the air over one of the streets that fed into Slussen.
“It’s almost cocktail hour,” Joss said. “Why don’t we go on up and have a drink and you can show me?”
“In a bit. We’re here for a reason. Our friend Silverhielm has his city offices in the building attached to the restaurant.” Bax glanced at his watch. “I’m told he comes out between four and five every afternoon.” He rose and held out a hand to her. “Would you like a closer look at the Katarinahissen?”
Joss grinned. “Lead the way.”
Crossing the various streams of traffic between the square and the Katarinahissen took longer than she expected, but eventually they stood by the doors to the elevator, across from the office building. Bax led her a few steps along the sidewalk, staring out at the water. Without warning, he swept her into his arms, his mouth hard on hers.
It should have been different. They knew one another’s bodies now, they’d kissed plenty of times. It should have been pedestrian. It shouldn’t have sent her blood fizzing through her veins.
It shouldn’t have left her stunned with wanting.
“There, coming out of the doors,” Bax murmured against her lips and lifted her off her feet to spin her a little, as though he were a lover overcome with the moment. “Take a good look so you’ll know him later.”
Face pressed into his neck, Joss opened her eyes and looked across the street.
There was no doubt which one was Silverhielm. Bodyguards flanked him but he walked as though he were alone, head raised arrogantly as he approached the gleaming black sedan that sat idling at the curb. He wore an impeccably tailored suit, slate-blue with a chalk stripe. His hair was thick, wavy and entirely gray; his eyes were pale. About him, there hovered an indefinable air of implacability and menace.
It was a well-choreographed scene, like the footage she’d seen of presidents and prime ministers walking to vehicles. In seconds, he was safely ensconced in the car and his entourage was inside.
The sound of the car door slamming behind him echoed across the street. Joss shivered as the car drove away. “So that’s him.”
Bax nodded and released her.
It shouldn’t have shaken her. There was no good reason why it did. Joss walked away from the lift building to lean on the railing and look across the water to Gamla Stan. “He looked…ruthless.”
“He hasn’t gotten to where he is by being kind. So are you ready to step back from this and let me take care of things?”
“No.” She turned to him, shoulders squared. “I know who we’re up against now, which is going to make me that much better against him.”
“Stubborn,” Bax commented, bouncing his loosely curled fist lightly off her chin.
“Determined,” she countered.
“Not to mention sexy as hell. I seem to remember something about a payment due, by the way.”
“Payment?” she echoed innocently.
“If I don’t get it, I’m going to have to send you to collections,” he warned.
Joss smiled. “Well, then, I guess I’d better pay up.”
6
THE CHERUBS SMILED at her, golden-haired and rosy-cheeked, their bellies coquettishly round. Hanging on the wall over her head, their lively faces stared out, not at Joss, but at the sailing ship behind her, the enormous relic of a bygone age, the ornately carved king’s folly that hadn’t even made it out of the harbor before capsizing centuries before.
It was hard to say what was more extraordinary, Joss thought, the fact that for over two centuries people had forgotten where the Vasa warship lay, just a few hundred yards from the bustling waterfront, or the fact that the ship had been rediscovered and brought up to the surface nearly intact.
When she’d capsized, the sailors on the Vasa must have prayed to God for salvation. Now, the vessel was ensconced in a temple of its own, a soaring building of soft light designed to protect and display the ripe and luscious lines of a sailing ship that barely sailed.
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