I turned and saw a young man in a waiter’s jacket.

“Mr. Vane is waiting for you in the private viewing room upstairs,” the waiter said.

Vane was the alias Derek used when he was pretending to be an art collector.

“Lead the way,” I said.

He walked toward the winding marble staircase, and I followed him.

The noise of the auction room faded as we climbed higher.

The second floor was carpeted in thick, dark red wool that muffled our footsteps.

We walked past glass cases displaying ancient coins and gold artifacts.

The waiter stopped in front of a heavy mahogany door at the end of the hall.

He opened it and gestured for me to enter.

“He is inside,” the waiter said.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the room.

The door clicked shut behind me, and I heard the lock turn from the outside.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

The room was dimly lit, filled with old paintings stacked against the walls.

A single green shaded lamp burned on a desk in the center of the room.