In what looked like a tiki bar, Lizzie settled herself in a comfortable rattan chair. Battery-operated candles sat in the middle of all the tables. Tiki torches with the same kind of battery lights were placed strategically around the huge bar area. Dried palm fronds and other assorted dried foliage were everywhere. Lizzie decided she would rather sit in a well-lit chrome-and-glass bar where she could really see what was going on.

"I assume we're being watched here, too, right?"

"You assume right. Bartenders are known for giving friends free drinks, adding an extra jigger to the glass. Everything here is suspect. This is just a guess on my part, but I'd wager there are at least two cameras in here, probably glued to all that fake palm crap. It's hard to be honest in a place like this. It's called temptation."

A waitress who was pretty and shapely enough to be a Hollywood starlet bounced over to their table to take their order. She smiled, and the room lit up. "What can I get for you wonderful people? Welcome to Las Vegas."

Lizzie smiled in return. "Scotch on the rocks," she said. Ted ordered a Corona.

"Bet you can't guess how much these girls make in a night," Ted said.

"Probably a couple of hundred if they smile at the guests. Waitressing is hard work, you're on your feet for your entire shift, and those girls wear high heels, so no matter what they make in tips, they earn it. Okay, how much?"

"Eight, nine hundred a night. Most are girls working their way through college. Like I said, I read a lot. So, is she late, or are we early?"

"We're five minutes early. You look nervous, Ted. Relax."

Their drinks arrived, and the waitress made a production out of setting up the napkins and the small bowl of trail mix, then offering to pour Ted's beer. He declined the offer and immediately took a swig out of the bottle. Lizzie dug around in her purse and pulled out her American Express Black Card and handed it over. Ted noticed.

"The Centurion Card, eh? Guess they do pay you the big bucks. I heard that card is titanium and makes a different sound when you drop it on the table."

"True," Lizzie said as she watched for someone who might be looking around for her. Just as the waitress returned her credit card, she saw a dowager type walk up the two steps into the tiki bar and look around. Lizzie left a 30 percent tip, then scrawled her name across the bottom of the charge slip. She jammed the receipt and card back into her bag as she stood up and walked over to the dowager, who was still looking around.

"Ms. Preston?"

"Yes. And you are?"