Chapter 5

The first guest moved toward the doors—a tall man in a charcoal suit who'd been standing by the window, watching with the careful stillness of someone who knew the difference between a scene and a raid. He didn't run. He walked, deliberately, toward the sealed blast doors, and he raised his hand, and he knocked.

It was an absurd gesture. Three sharp raps on twenty tons of steel. But it broke the spell that had held the room frozen, and suddenly everyone was moving, all at once, a tide of silk and diamonds pressing toward the walls, toward the exits, toward anything that wasn't the center of the room where Julian and Thomas were standing.

"Stay where you are," Thomas said.

His voice was calm and flat and it somehow carried over the chaos. The guests stopped. They turned. They looked at him.

"You will remain in this room until the authorities arrive," Thomas said. "No one leaves. No one makes a call. No one tries to destroy anything."

The tall man who'd knocked on the doors turned back to look at Thomas. "And who exactly is going to make us?"

Thomas lifted the radio.

"Blackwater actual," he said. "Status report."

The radio crackled. "Blackwater actual, we have three units positioned outside. Exterior secured. Municipal authorities notified. ETA seven minutes."

"Copy," Thomas said. "Hold position."

He lowered the radio and looked at the tall man.

"You were saying?"

The tall man's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak. He stepped back from the doors, just a step, but it was enough. The gesture was observed by everyone in the room.