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Chefs had been flown in from France, Greece and California. Fresh produce and seafood was brought in, as well as superior wines and champagnes. No expense was spared for this once-a-year party that Mary so enjoyed throwing. The fact that her husband used the event for his criminal activities was evil, in her eyes.
Mary was one of the gentlest ladies Bailey had ever known. During her childhood Mary Altman had been a strong guiding force for Bailey and Anna. She had taken the two girls under her wing, guided them in their coming-out balls and taught them how to laugh at themselves when their parents had exhibited disappointment or disapproval in them.
Slipping out of the ballroom, Bailey made her way through the foyer and away from the clash of voices. She couldn’t handle the crowd of overgrown teenage females any longer. That was what they reminded her of. They were mothers and grandmothers, yet they seemed to think they were still eighteen. The petty backstabbing and social climbing sickened her. Being a part of it was something to avoid at all costs.
As Bailey escaped the ballroom and moved quietly through the house, she was aware of the security cameras that followed her progress. Raymond had spared no expense in the security of his home, or his secrets. It seemed that every room she had been in so far, except bedrooms and bathrooms, were equipped with the electronic devices. Some of the larger rooms contained several of them.
Movement through the house was tracked diligently, the images displayed into a secure room in the basement level that was manned by several security guards.
Outside was no less secure. The evergreen maze was filled with them, the only privacy to be found there was in the sheltered, private grottos that Mary had insisted on and had spared no expense in creating.
The place was a virtual fortress, leaving her very little opportunity to slip into Raymond’s office and rifle through his papers. The good ol’ days of the spy game that her cousin Garren Abijah had once talked about were well and truly gone.
Everything was electronic now. Gadgets and sensors, virtual access and computer viruses. One damned near had to be a rocket scientist to figure out how to slip into secured areas undetected. That or have a team with varying skills covering every move.
She wasn’t a rocket scientist and she didn’t have a team. That left her at loose ends as she roamed the house and eventually made her way outside.
John was with the men, most likely pursuing much more interesting activities this afternoon. Shooting pool, playing poker, possibly out hunting. She would have given her eye-teeth to be socializing with the men rather than the women. Buying jewels and clothes wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun time. She wasn’t there to have fun. She was there to catch a murderous traitor and she had to admit, at least to herself, that she was beginning to grow impatient.
Her world, unfortunately, was still a man’s world. They conducted business, made financial decisions and ran the vast array of companies beneath their personal umbrellas. The women spent their days with their charities, their shopping, lunches and social calenders. God, could that life get any more boring?
Moving through the house, she found herself drawn to the library. The intimate, cozy room was filled with books, reading nooks, and a fire that crackled cheerily in the hearth.
The warmth of the fire sent a soft glow of heat to the seating arrangement in front of it. As Bailey entered, her only thought was to curl up on the comfortable couch she and Anna used to share when they had slept over at Mary’s and reminisce on a childhood friend who should never have died.
Her hopes were doomed to disappointment. Moving toward the fireplace, a slight movement to her right had her swinging around, her hand going to the small of her back, beneath the cream-colored cashmere sweater she wore for the weapon hidden there in its butter-soft leather holster.
“Ease up, Agent Serborne.” From the shadows, one of the brokers invited to the house party stepped forward.
“Landon Roth.” She kept her hand on her weapon. “No one told me you had been invited.”
A wide toothy smile in a less-than-charming face was her answer.
Landon was one of those plain little men that one met sometimes. If you didn’t know him, didn’t know the pure genius and pure evil inside him, then he was so easily overlooked and underestimated.
“I rather had a feeling you would be drawn here.” Plain hazel eyes glanced around the room as he straightened the edges of his charcoal-gray jacket over his white shirt. Finely pleated pants and black leather shoes completed his appearance. He wasn’t short, he wasn’t tall. At five feet eight inches, he was just the right height to blend in. Neatly trimmed hair a shade of dark blond or light brown, she had never really determined which and thin wire-rimmed glasses.
“And what made you think I’d be drawn here?” she asked, careful to keep an eye on him.
He looked around again, a smile playing at his lips. “I think a library rather becomes you, Agent Serborne,” he stated. “Classy, refined, quiet. An oasis of peace.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “I always rather saw you as a woman of class and refinement, though I must admit I never made the connection to the Serborne fortune until I arrived here. The CIA omitted that from your file, I do believe.”
She arched her brows. “I’ll have to remind them to correct that oversight.”
He chuckled at her response as he wagged a finger at her. “Very deceptive, my dear. Very deceptive. The past they created for you was quite inventive, I must say. Kansas farm parents, dead. No living brothers or sisters. An orphan with no family. Very, very good.”
“Thank you.” Bailey watched him carefully as he moved to the seating arrangement and took a seat in one of the comfortable wing-backed chairs.
“Do have a seat, Agent Serborne,” he invited as he waved his hand toward the couch. “We need to discuss a few details if you don’t mind.”
“And if I do mind?” she asked archly.
He smiled, a rather chilling curve to his lips that she knew was designed to inspire fear. She wasn’t afraid of him. Fear of Roth wasn’t something she had ever known. She was wary, though.
“I do believe as Warbucks’s emissary you are required to consider all brokers invited to this little get-together in the hopes of convincing you that they are the best man for the upcoming auction,” he pointed out. “I’d have to have to complain that I wasn’t given a fair and impartial chance at the job.”
“Last I heard, Warbucks didn’t exactly follow traditional employment guidelines.” She almost rolled her eyes at his statement. “Really, Roth, do you believe there’s an argument you can give that would convince me that you should have this job over John Vincent?”
“Your lover isn’t exactly the best man for the job.” His lips twisted into a curve of distaste. “If you were looking for a business partner, my dear, I’m certain you could have found a much better match. One who at least understands the world you were born within.”
