Kat took a paring knife and slit the envelope open in one smooth gesture, then pulled out a card and looked down at the words You are cordially invited to witness the beginning.
There was the address of Hale Industries and a date and time for the following afternoon. But the thing that made her heart beat faster was the handwritten line at the bottom of the card.
Please come. Use the back door.
“What is it?” her cousin asked.
“I’m not sure,” Kat said, turning the card over and over in her hands. “Some kind of invitation.”
But to what, she didn’t have a clue.
Chapter 20
At half past noon the next day, Kat found herself in the narrow alley behind Hale Industries’ world headquarters, staring at a locked door. It seemed utterly wrong to stand at the service entrance with an invitation and not a tool belt, and part of Kat wanted to flee the scene. Run. Disappear into the midtown traffic. But before she could move, a shadow appeared on the wall just over her shoulder, and a vaguely familiar voice said, “Well, hello there.”
Kat looked at the man coming up the alley behind her. Immediately, she recognized the white hair and bulging belly. But there was something different about the man whom she’d met at the funeral. This time, he wasn’t in mourning. This time, he was…nervous.
“Hi, Mr. Foster,” Kat said.
Silas nodded, impressed. “That’s a good memory you have there.”
“Thank you,” Kat said. “I try.”
“Allow me.” Silas swiped his ID badge across an electronic pad beside the door, and Kat gave a soft sigh.
“The McClintock Three-sixty,” she whispered when the light flashed from red to green.
“What was that?” he asked.
“That lock is really nifty,” Kat hurried to add, then smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet. She must have looked far more innocent than she felt, because the old man opened the door wide and gestured for her to go ahead.
“Come on in,” he told her. “I’ll show you the way.”
Kat had never been inside the Hale Industries headquarters before, but she didn’t pause to consider the irony. She was there. Hale had invited her. And the fact that he’d sent her through the back door might not have meant anything at all.
“Come along, Miss Bishop. I believe the party is upstairs.”
Mr. Foster pushed the elevator call button, and a moment later, Kat was inside, achingly aware of the silence that filled the shiny car.
“I’m so glad to see you here,” Silas told her. “It’s a big day for us.”
“What is today, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, before Hazel died, she and I were working on a new project. Today we unveil it for the board of directors. The real party is next week—a gala, I believe they’re calling it. You should come to that, too. It’s going to be quite the big to-do.”
“Sounds exciting,” Kat said, and laughed a little at the old-fashioned phrase.
“It is,” Silas said. “I’m only sad Hazel won’t be here to see it.”
The elevator made a ding and came to a stop.
“Allow me.” Silas held open the doors and gestured for Kat to step out into a corridor lined with paintings. There was something eerily familiar about them all, and Kat was just starting to wonder what it was when Silas said, “Miss Bishop, allow me to introduce the Hale men.”
He gestured to an old oil painting of a man in uniform. “That’s Mr. Hale the First. He was something of a character, I’m told. A big brute of a man. Powerful.” Silas puffed up his chest as if to prove the point. “He served in the military with one of the British princes. Saved his life, even, if the stories are true. And was rewarded handsomely for it.”
The next painting showed a man on a factory line, surrounded by crates and machinery.
“Mr. Hale the Second,” Silas said. “He was the first to come to this country, I believe. A bright man, by all accounts. Greedy. But bright.”