expression shifted. “Ah, I know this well.”
“I’ve had a license to carry for years.” I was reaching behind me as I said this, unclipping my gun. I showed it to Ward, flipped the safety. Removed the magazine. “But this is my baby. Take good care of it.”
The guard didn’t answer, merely took the weapon and deposited it in a locked safe. We submitted to another pat-down, ensuring we didn’t have cameras taped to our bodies. Thanks to the Bureau’s fancy tech, our earpieces weren’t detected.
A bald, bespectacled man appeared behind Ward. “He’ll take your account information and prep the wire transfer,” Ward explained. “If you do, indeed, win, the transfer will happen as soon as the item is in your hand.”
“Wonderful,” I smiled. Reached into my pocket and handed over the account information the FBI had created for this very moment. With a nod, the man left—preparing to move millions of dollars if we were lucky enough to get those letters.
“It’s amazing that the basement at The Grand Dame can be transformed like this,” Freya said. “The book convention is happening —”
“Only two floors away,” Ward said. “Amazing, isn’t it? We live in a world where lies are buried inside deeper lies, where everything’s a smoke screen. Nothing is real. For every law-abiding book convention in this world you’ll find, well…” He spread his arms and indicated the hallway behind him, “You’ll find this.”
It was a large, low-ceilinged room with dark, paneled walls and flickering candlelight. Jazz music floated in on speakers I couldn’t see, and my eyes were drawn to the backlit stage at the far end. A long, low bar glittered with glasses and liquor, and the space was filled with men and women adorned in masks. Feathered, beaded, sequined—it was disorienting. As an FBI agent, I was used to scanning faces, recognizing suspects, and categorizing them instantly. Instead I faced a sea of people who were unfamiliar, all dressed in confusing garb.
“Absinthe?” asked a hostess.
Freya selected an oddly shaped glass from the tray. “Perfume bottles?”
“A nice touch, don’t you think?” Ward said.
“I should have worn a flapper dress,” she exclaimed. “I had no idea.”
“It’s high time this kind of circumventing of the law was celebrated in our society, and not scorned,” he said.
“And the hotel staff…?” she ventured.
Ward slipped his hands into his pockets. “As it is so awfully true in the history of this world, you can do anything if you pay people off.”
“How quaint,” she said.
A man and a woman in elaborately feathered masks grabbed the attention of Cora and Thomas, which left us alone with Dr. Ward.
“When does bidding start?” I asked.
Ward stepped closer to me, as if sharing a secret. I dipped my head in anticipation.
“I don’t know who you think you are, but god help me if you bring a weapon into my house again.” Then he clapped me hard on the shoulder before nodding and walking away.
A reckless man with the only gun in the room—besides the armed guard—was not an ideal situation. Especially one who’d been pissed—rather than pleased—at the presence of a perceived threat.
Freya was at my side in an instant. She tilted her head, listening. A beat later, I heard Henry in my ear. Abe wants to know if you’re safe. If not, get out of there now.
“How are you feeling?” Freya asked. “Excited or…?”
“Excited,” I said firmly, watching her reaction. She nodded. “It’s a lot to take in, but I feel confident about our plan to bid.”
Me too, she mouthed.
Please be careful, Henry said urgently in my ear. I tracked Ward’s movements—he was glad-handing around the crowd like a local politician. Thomas was eyeing Ward covertly, sulking. Unpredictable.
There was movement at the stage—long tables covered in velvet tablecloths being rolled out. Freya and I moved through the back as couples laughed and the jazz music swelled. One of the side rooms was open. In the center was a red curtain. I was intrigued by the scuffling sounds coming from behind.
“I’m curious to know who will take this beauty home tonight.” It was Roy, suddenly next to us with a scowl on his face. He looked out of place surrounded by soft conversation and jazz. I realized he wasn’t wearing a mask of any kind. I touched mine, shifting it.
There was a sound like thunder from behind the curtain—a roar that rattled my bones.
Freya jumped a foot in the air, hand on her chest. “Jesus fucking Christ, what was that?”
Roy’s scowl deepened. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
My partner