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'Here come the purebloods,' Jack announced. 'A real coach party.'
'Hades' scrotum, you're not kidding,' Amon mumbled uneasily, as a luxury coach pulled up outside the Bane Gallery. It disgorged a well-dressed huddle of passengers, wrapped up against the elements. To anyone passing, just a crowd of art lovers on their way to a private viewing.
In brooding silence, Jack and Amon watched the stream of purebloods walk up the stairs and congregate in the large reception hall. Once the last passenger had vanished inside, the coach pulled away.
Jack watched it go. Still, there was no word from Lucy and no sign of Sunni or Chung. He resisted the urge to call Lucy, reasoning that if she had anything to say she'd contact them.
It was now close to eleven. The minutes seemed to pass unbearably slowly, but Jack's heart jolted when he saw how much more time had elapsed.