Julia's expression was that of a young girl approaching the Taj Mahal. "I've never attended a major-league Washington party before. I hope I won't embarrass you."

"You won't," Pitt assured her. "Just tell yourself that it's strictly a social theater. The powerful Washington elite throw posh functions because they have something to sell. It all comes down to people milling around, swilling booze, looking influential and exchanging gossip mixed with explicit information. Mostly, the city's society chronicles the foolish events from their petty little political worlds."

"You act as if you've been to them before."

"As I told you on the dock at Grapevine Bay, my father is a senator. In my bon vivant younger days I used to tag along and attempt to pick up congressional mistresses."

"Were you successful?" "Almost never."

A stretch limo was disgorging several of Qin Shang's guests, who turned and gazed in frank admiration at the Duesenberg. Valet parking attendants appeared as if summoned. The valets were immune to limousines and expensive cars, most of them foreign, but this one staggered their minds. Almost reverently, they opened the doors.

Pitt eyed a man standing off to the side who took a particular interest in the newcomers and their means of transportation. Then he turned and hurried inside. No doubt, Pitt thought, to alert his boss to the arrival of guests who didn't fit the normal pattern.

As they swept arm in arm through the elegant colonnade entrance, Julia whispered to Pitt, "I hope I don't lose it when I meet that murdering bastard and spit in his face."

"Just tell him how much you enjoyed the cruise on his ship, and how you're looking forward to the next one."

The gray eyes flashed with fire. "Like hell I will."

"Now don't forget," said Pitt, "as an agent in good standing with the INS, you're here on assignment."

"And you?"

Pitt laughed. "I'm just along for the ride."

"How can you be so lackadaisical?" she snapped. "We may be lucky to get out of here with our heads."

"We'll be all right so long as we're in a crowd. Our problems come after we leave."

"Not to worry," she assured him. "Peter has arranged for a team of security people to stand by outside the house in case of trouble."

"Should Qin Shang get nasty, do we send up flares?"

"We'll be in constant communication. I have a radio in my purse."

Pitt stared at the tiny purse skeptically. "And a gun too?"

She shook her head. "No gun." Then she smiled slyly. "You forget, I've seen you in action. I'm counting on you to protect me."

"Dearheart, you're in big trouble."

They passed through the foyer into a vast hallway filled with Chinese art objects. The centerpiece was a seven-foot-tall bronze incense burner inlaid with gold. The upper section depicted flames leaping toward the sky interspersed with women, their arms and hands uplifted with offerings. Aromatic incense wreathed the flames in billowy clouds that scented the entire house. Pitt stepped up to the bronze masterwork and studied it closely, examining the inlaid gold that decorated the base.