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They barely managed to make it to the doors before they were swarmed with security--who were actual police officers in uniform.
"Excuse me!" one guy said. "This is a private event. I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
Nicky and Ken whipped out their badges. "FBI," Nicky said. "We need through. Now."
The cops exchanged glances. "We can't do that," the one guy, a scrawny officer with a goatee, said.
Nicky struggled to keep her cool. "You can, and you will. This is a federal investigation."
"You can either let us through," Ken said, "or you can deal with the fact that you're going to be personally responsible for allowing a murderer to go free."
"Murderer?" The cop scowled. "What are you talking about? This is a very influential crowd. You two are in the wrong place."
"We're in the right place," Nicky said. "Trust me on that. We need to get in there. Now."
The officer looked more nervous than before, shifting from one foot to the other. "This is a private event," he said. "Unless you have a warrant, I can't let you in there."
Nicky glanced at Ken. The man was taking in the entire situation. He was thinking quickly, just as Nicky was.
"I'm not saying we have a warrant, but we do have probable cause. This is a federal investigation, and you will be personally responsible if we don't get to go through," Ken said.
"That's right," Nicky said. "We're going through, and we're going through right now. So either let us, or you're going to be in deep shit. Is it really worth it?"
The officer's jaw clenched, but once he looked at the other officers who were joining the conversation, he must have realized that he didn't have a choice.
"No," one of the other cops said. "We should call this in, get a warrant."
"I'm not making the call," the officer said. "I'm not risking my job over this. Those are federal agents."
The man Nicky and Ken had first spoken to didn't look pleased. "Fine, but if you screw up, I'm holding you personally responsible."
"I've got this," the first officer said, and with that, Nicky and Ken were rushed into the theater. Nicky entered the lobby and instantly her gaze zeroed in on the stage just ahead.
She hadn't realized it before, but the place was already full of people. Everyone was dressed to the nines in fancy gowns and tuxedos, sipping on glasses of champagne while they chatted. No one even gave Nicky and Ken a second glance as they moved toward the stage.
And right there, on the center of the stage, speaking into a mic, was Jordan Katz.
He was tall and balding, with sallow skin, but he held himself like he was confident and handsome even though he wasn't much of a looker. Damn. Going up there would cause a huge scene. She needed to get him off that stage.
"Now," Jordan said into the mic. Everyone near the stage was watching and listening. "I'd like everyone to give it up for my uncle, Officer Frank Katz!"
A tall, broad officer strolled onto the stage, waving.
"Holy shit," Nicky said, "he's related to someone on the force."
"Figures," Ken said. He pulled on Nicky's arm, pulling her toward the stage.
"I know you're going to enjoy this," Jordan said. "I went to his retirement party recently, and I saw the man eat three plates of food! Isn't that wonderful?"
Everyone laughed.
"So, as a token of my appreciation for all the years of service," Jordan said. "I've taken the liberty to plan him a wonderful retirement party. I'd like to officially welcome everyone to the party!"
Cheers went up.
"To hell with it," Ken said. Nicky looked at him, confused. "Let's just nail this son of a bitch to the ground."
"Walker, wait--"
