Chapter 2 — Nine Cameras

Priya watched the footage for six hours on a Tuesday.The Meridian Gallery had nine cameras: four covering the main gallery floor, one each at the two entrance points, one at the bar, one covering the private reception alcove off the entrance, and one on the terrace — exterior, angled down from the building's facade. This last one showed the terrace from above and slightly south, meaning Conrad Vane's final minutes were documented from an angle that showed the terrace clearly but the glass walls behind him as a reflective surface, the interior of the gallery visible only as light and movement.She watched all nine feeds simultaneously on the split screen her partner Marcus Webb had configured before she'd arrived that morning. Webb was fifty, built for endurance rather than speed, and he'd set up the monitors and the coffee and left her to it, which was the right instinct.She watched the gala begin.Conrad Vane arrived at six forty-five. Taller than she'd expected from photographs — six-two, silver-haired, with the ease of a man who had spent decades being the most significant person in rooms designed to hold significant people. He moved through his guests with total command. Handshakes that became conversations. Conversations that became his.Elise Hartwell arrived at seven-oh-four. Fifty-two, expensively assembled, with dark hair drawn back and the controlled elegance of a woman who had learned early that elegance was armor. She and Conrad found each other within minutes. From camera two, Priya watched them embrace — brief, genuine in the way of people with long history, not performed for the room. They spoke for several minutes in the private reception alcove, where camera eight gave her the clearest angle.She watched this segment three times.At seven-eleven, Conrad accepted an object from Elise. A program — the anniversary exhibition guide, printed on heavy cream stock, folded in thirds. He held it for a moment, looked at the cover, said something to Elise. She said something back. He put it in the inside pocket of his jacket.Priya stopped the footage.She restarted it. She watched the handover again.It was completely natural. There were three hundred programs on every surface of the venue — she'd seen them in the wide shots, fanned out on tables, stacked at the entrance. Elise handing Conrad a program was the most unremarkable possible action at an event he was hosting.