"Yeah?"
"Eliot."
The connection wasn't good, but he could hear it was her. "Hey, what time zone are you in?"
"I have no idea. I'm on a train between St. Petersburg and Warszawa."
"Poland? Why not take a plane? Man, what a haul." He ordered his coffee sweet.
"Are you in Greece?"
"Nah, Greek cafe in New York."
"Speaking of: I loved Martinique's. I think I want the Brun's to adopt me."
He chuckled. "I told you they'd take care of you." He pointed to the dessert case and the waitress nodded.
"So, Sebastian," she said the name with a grin and he could hear the sarcasm in her voice. "What do you know about Russia?"
"The vodka is good, the mobs are bad, and it's hard to run in the snow."
She was laughing. "Russian Art. Art. Icons."
"Oh. I didn't hear you say art," he grumbled.
"I gathered. What do you know about 16th century icons?" Her tone was amused.
"It's easy to forge the wood. After the mid-17th century the west influenced the style. They like to work in copper. Not much else, why?"
"I'm working with a private collector. He wants to sell his art collection, in whole, and he's ..."
"Did the line cut out or are you looking for a nice way to say kook?"
"I would never say kook."
He didn't respond, just waited.
"He's an interesting character."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, there is this one piece. Carved from Ivory. It's of Michael."
"The warrior saint."
"You know him?"
"I read."
"You're right. I'm sorry. You're very good at getting people to underestimate you."
"It's what I do."
"Anyway. It's about the size of my palm. And the engraving is amazing. The details are just exquisite. I think this one piece alone is worth more than everything else this man has."
"Tell me about it."
And while he ate his pastry and drank his coffee, she described the piece. The connection got worse, static and an echo.
"There's going to be a check point soon. I guess I should get going."
"Remember, at border crossings, to have your papers ready and your running shoes on. Oh, that's just me."
She laughed. He was starting to love that laugh.