She approached the security desk in the lobby, then offered her purse to the guard, who simply nodded in her direction and let her pass through the small acrylic gate. She gave him a wink. He tipped his hat. Yes, they will remember the cute chick in the sixties outfit. They will not remember the plain and simple, mousy-looking girl.

Eileen made her way through the guests, had a few hors d’oeuvres, and snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter passing by with a trayful. Pretending to take a sip, Eileen looked around for the ladies’ room. It was in the far corner, next to an exit. When Eileen had studied the blueprints, she had etched the exact location of the stairs into her memory.

She smiled and nodded to several people as she approached the bathroom. There was a woman washing her hands as Eileen entered. “Good evenings” were exchanged, and Eileen went into one of the stalls. She quickly removed her wig, boots, skirt, and vest and replaced them with a long prairie-style skirt, tan blouse, brown hair in a bun, and granny glasses. And the flat shoes. She stepped on the toilet to see if there was anyone else in the room. It was empty.

She turned her bag inside out, and it now looked like an old satchel. She took a quick look in the mirror. Yes. She’d blend right into the woodwork.

Slowly opening the door, she peered out to see if anyone was looking in her direction. There were a few people engaged in conversation nearby, so she avoided making eye contact with any of them. With catlike moves, she was in the stairwell. She waited. Listened. Nothing.

She looked around for security cameras, just in case they had changed the layout since the building opened. Everything appeared to be in the locations indicated on the plans. She knew where the cameras were and how to dodge them. She had already made her way to Marcus’s floor when she saw the NO REENTRY sign on the door. Damn. That information had been omitted. She made her way to the floor below Marcus’s and was able to enter the corridor. She would have to take the lift up, but she had to avoid the camera. Or change her disguise again. Thinking quickly, she pulled out the scarf, wrapped it around her head like a hijab, untucked her blouse, and made her way to the lift. The lift dinged when it reached Marcus’s floor. Carefully looking in each direction, she proceeded to Marcus’s flat. The hallway was very quiet except for the sound of soft classical music coming from one of the apartments. When she reached the door to Marcus’s flat, she rang the buzzer. If anyone answered, she would use the “I’m lost or wrong number” excuse.