"Looks like they're all here, Boss," Mike Oliver said out of the corner of his mouth. His voice was pitched low so as not to aggravate a man who was already pissed to the teeth. "Looks to me like they're just milling around until it's time to make their way up to Lansing's office."

"I don't see Homer. Did he get here yet?" Owens snarled.

"He's been in his office since eight o'clock. He ordered breakfast and is now reading the morning edition of every newspaper that's printed. He didn't look happy when he got here. He usually shuffles when he walks, but this morning he stomped his way up to his office. He's been focused on the Post, since that's what he reads when he's at his home on the Chesapeake. I gotta tell you, Boss, the guy don't look too happy," Oliver said.

"And I give a good rat's ass if that old bastard is happy or not!"

The inner ring went mute. While Owens confided in them on some things, they all knew they were not privy to the really important workings of the casino. None of them ever made an issue of it, but it rankled. It was their asses on the line when Owens wanted something done on a wink and the sly while he sat up in his office staring at the monitors.

The inner ring knew Owens was outraged that he hadn't been invited to the meeting in Lansing's office that was due to take place in forty minutes. Even though he wouldn't be physically in the room, he would still know what was going on, thanks to the miniature cameras Quintera and Richards had installed at four thirty in the morning. Homer's office had been bugged a little after midnight. Hank Owens wasn't the head of security for nothing. When he said he wanted to know everything that went on at his hotel/casino, he meant everything.

Hank Owens leaned closer to one of the monitors. His clenched fist banged on the desktop with such force, the monitor teetered and almost came loose from its fittings. "That bitch is back! Son of a bitch, she's walking around trying to pick a machine. Of all goddamn days, she picks today, with Homer here." He banged the desktop again, then he moved away, his back to his men, and spoke into his sleeve the way the Secret Service agents did when they were guarding the president.

Down below on the main floor, Lizzie felt the air stir around her. Security. She looked over at Ted. She could tell that he, too, had felt the atmosphere and knew exactly what it meant as he trailed behind Marble Rose and the Silver Fox.