The Investment That Fell Through

Don't naïvely assume that being an angel investor was a guaranteed profitable business.

Not every good idea could make a fortune, and not every team was as capable as their mouths made them sound. There was always an element of gambling involved, except this gamble had no house—only two players working together.

If that had been all Henry knew, he would not have paid much attention to the man. But then he recalled the warning Tony Stark had taken the time to give him at Katharine Hepburn's birthday party. The person he needed to watch out for had precisely this name.

And... judging from his appearance, the man was a typical Frenchman. He was powerfully built and looked to be in his forties or fifties. With his black curly hair and beard, he could be called a stylish French gentleman. That assessment applied only if he had not been the true culprit behind Skye's kidnapping.

Unable to determine whether the man before him was the mastermind the street thugs had spoken of, Henry became more guarded. He wanted to see what the other man intended to do and properly assess whether he had mistaken him for someone else—or whether this bastard really was the culprit.

Standing beside the bar, Henry drank the whiskey the bartender had just poured. Champagne and some light cocktails were being served throughout the banquet hall, but anyone who wanted hard liquor still had to order it at the bar.

After exchanging greetings, the man ordered a martini from the bartender, seemingly trying to project an air of calm composure. But the moment he turned around, he headed straight for Henry. "Mr. Brown, we've actually had our eye on you for quite some time."

"Heh. Lots of people have their eye on me, and they all