"Phew."
Peach hid a laugh behind her hand, watching Jack's helpless expression. The woman couldn't help but find the dry humor of the man in front of her disarming. A second later, her expression changed—her stomach tightened, and a faint blush crept up her face.
"Sir, I'm sorry—could you watch my stall for a moment?" she asked, flustered.
Cole read the situation instantly—the look, the hesitation, the clamped stance. He nodded once. "Go ahead. I'll keep an eye on things."
"Thank you."
Peach gave a grateful smile, grabbed her bag, and hurried off toward the public restrooms.
The moment she was gone, Jack turned his attention to her table. His gaze fell on a tribal wood carving, its finish rough but oddly magnetic.
"How much for this piece?" Jack asked, tapping the sculpture.
Cole didn't miss a beat. "One hundred thousand francs."
Jack blinked. "The hell did you just say?"
"For a hundred thousand francs," Cole said calmly, "I'd say it's worth every penny."
Jack looked between the statue and Cole, incredulous. "That's daylight robbery."
"Consider it an investment," Cole replied. "That carving marks the tribe where the military installation was buried. The one you're looking for. So yes, it's worth it."
Jack froze. The air shifted. "You know about that?"
Cole's grin didn't fade.
Jack sighed, half amused, half suspicious. "You're British, right? Shouldn't we look out for each other?"
Cole arched an eyebrow. "You ever heard the saying—'the last person you trust abroad is someone waving your own flag'?"
Jack had no comeback.
"Fine," he said finally. "If you're charging a fortune, prove it's worth it."
Cole's tone sharpened, a trace of challenge. "Because it ties into your next job, Mr. Flying Eagle."
The use of his codename froze Jack in place.
"You knew who I was the whole time," Jack said, voice cooling. "You working for the Earl too?"
"I'm not with the Earl," Cole said evenly. "As for who I am, you'll figure that out soon enough." He leaned in slightly. "But here's a tip—don't overreach. There's gold under that sand, and there are graves waiting for the men who go digging."
Jack's jaw flexed. "I don't run from the odds."
Cole extended a hand. "Then pay up."
Jack hesitated, then pulled a small emerald from his pocket—deep green, flawless under the market light. "This should cover it."
Cole pocketed it without hesitation. "Pleasure doing business."
At that moment, a blonde woman with striking poise and sharp blue eyes stepped toward the stall.
"What's this?" she asked, eyeing a small ocarina-like instrument.
"A Xun," Cole said smoothly. "Ancient wind instrument, seven thousand years of history."
"How much?"
"One hundred francs."
She smiled faintly, dropped a note on the table, and walked off.
Jack followed her with his eyes. "Pretty one. You not interested?"
Cole smirked faintly. "Not my type, but I can appreciate the view."
Before Jack could reply, two men in dusty desert clothes approached fast—hands twitching toward the cash Elsa had just left on the table.
They barely made it halfway.
Yin Yang was there in a blur, disarming one with a twist and sending the other crashing into a crate. The precision and restraint were surgical.
"Let them go," Cole ordered.
Yin Yang nodded and released them. The men stumbled away, clutching their arms.
Jack's eyes narrowed. He'd recognised the technique—military-grade, not the kind civilians learned.
"Your people," Cole said quietly, "are coming for you. You should go."
Jack glanced toward the street where his car waited. "You're not stopping me?"
"No need. You'll lead us right where we need to be."
Jack met his eyes, a flicker of realisation—and respect—passing between them. He left without another word.
Cole watched him go, the corners of his mouth tight.
"Aren't you worried he'll screw this up?" Yin Yang asked.
"He's the kind who has to find out the hard way," Cole said. "And we still need the key he'll get from the Count."
Moments later, Peach returned, face still a little flushed.
"Sorry to trouble you," she said, voice soft.
"No trouble at all." Cole took out a few folded bills and handed them to her. "For the sales you missed."
"So much? Thank you!"
"Then repay me with something simple," Cole said. "Be my guide tomorrow—to the place this carving came from."
Peach hesitated, then nodded. "All right. Ten o'clock, at the Grand Casablanca Hotel."
Cole gave a short nod. "See you then."
He turned to Yin Yang. "We've got what we came for."