Three Fates

the case, looked up. “So you get to be gofer,” she said in a silky tone. “Tell me, don’t you mind sharing your whore with your brother?”
    “We’re very big on sharing in my family. Just as well Mal didn’t get around to sharing you with me. You’re a bit old for my taste.”
    “Now, now, let’s mind our manners.” Malachi gestured at the case.
    “This is too public for an examination.”
    “Here, or not at all.”
    In a bad-tempered move, Anita tried to open the case. “It’s locked.”
    “So it is.” Gideon’s tone was cheerful. “Combination is seven, five, fifteen.” The date the Lusitania sank.
    Anita set the combination, clicked the lock, opened the lid. Nestled in foam padding, the Fates looked up, placidly.
    Lifting the first, Anita examined it. She remembered well the feel, the weight, the shape of Clotho. The satin texture of her silver skirt, the complicated coil of her hair over her shoulder, the delicacy of the spindle in her hand.
    She replaced it and lifted Lachesis. There were subtle differences. This dress had a different drape, leaving the curve of one shoulder bare. The gleaming hair was done up in a kind of crown. Her right hand held the end of a tape pulled out of the measuring rule she held in her left. There were notches and Greek numerals etched on the tape.
    Anita’s heart began to thud as she set the second Fate back in its bed and took out the third.
    Atropus was slightly, very slightly shorter than her sisters. And so agreed the legend. Her face was softer, somehow kinder. She held her tiny scissors in clasped hands between her breasts. She wore sandals, the strap of the left crisscrossing twice before disappearing under the flow of her skirts.
    Every detail agreed with documented descriptions. The workmanship was magnificent. And more, much more, there was a sense of power that pulsed from them. A kind of quiet underbeat that seemed to echo in Anita’s head.
    She would, at that moment, have paid anything, done anything, to have them.
    “Satisfied?” Malachi asked her.
    “A visual exam is hardly satisfactory.” She continued to hold Atropus. “Certain tests need to be—”
    Malachi plucked the Fate from her fingers, set it inside the case with the sisters. “We’ve gone that route once. Take it or leave it, here and now.”
    He closed the case even as she tried to reach out and stop him. And locked it. “You can hardly expect me to pay you ten million after a two-minute look.”
    He kept his voice hushed, as hers was. Reasonable, as hers was. “It’s all you had when first I showed you Clotho. And you knew, just as you know now. Transfer the money and you can walk out with them.” He took the case off the table as he spoke, put it on the floor at his feet. “Or don’t, and I walk out with them and sell them elsewhere. I’ve a suspicion Wyley’s would pay the price, and happily.”
    She opened her purse. Malachi closed a hand over her wrist as she reached inside. “Slowly, darling,” and his hand stayed on her wrist until she’d pulled out her phone.
    “Do you really think I’d take out a gun and shoot you in cold blood in a public place?”
    “Everything but the public place fits you as perfectly as that lovely suit you’re wearing.” He closed her handbag himself, then eased back.
    “If you think I’m that ruthless, I’m surprised you didn’t go to Wyley’s in the first place.”
    “I figure there’s fewer questions and explanations, some of which might be sticky, between you and me.”
    “Tell your brother to stop hulking over me,” she snapped, and punched in a number when Gideon faded back. “This is Anita Gaye. I’m ready to transfer the funds.”
    Malachi took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, spread it on the table in front of her. She relayed the information on it. “No,” she said. “I’ll call you back.”
    She laid the phone on the table. “The transfer’s being done. I want the Fates.”
    “And you’ll have them.” He nudged the case farther out of her reach. “When I’ve verified the money’s in my account.”
    From a nearby table, Rebecca answered an e-mail from Jack, sent another to Tia, then continued monitoring the numbered account.
    “It’s a lot of money, Malachi. What do you plan to do with it?”
    “We’ve all manner of plans. You’ll have to come to Cobh sometime, see for yourself just how we’ve put it to use. And you, what will you do? Start right up on turning a tidy profit, or