The Baladine Invitational swim meet drew a respectable crowd. Morrell dropped me twenty yards from the front gate. It stood open but was protected by uniformed members of Carnifice Security’s private security division. I joined a line that spilled into the road, standing between a couple of small girls arguing over a gym bag and two well–coiffed men discussing baseball. We crawled forward as guards checked tickets with a handheld scanner. They ran the scanner over my media pass and looked into my briefcase but saw only videocassettes and a notebook. Another man handed out maps and programs. He directed me toward the pool, where a special tent had been set up for media, with refreshments.

“And you can use the bathroom off the kitchen, ma’am. The public and swimmers are using the facilities in the cabana.”

It felt good to be called “ma’am” by a member of the Carnifice organization. I thanked him genially and mingled with the crowd going up the drive. I wasn’t exactly in disguise, but hoped that a wide–brimmed hat and the fact that no one expected to see me would protect me. I skirted the drive, clogged with SUV’s and the occasional actual car, and moved around to the back of the house, where the crowd was thicker.

In the media tent I got the press packet marked for Morrell but ducked back outside before I had to get into idle chitchat with anyone. Alex Fisher’s hapless assistant was there; I didn’t want her questioning me on where Morrell was. Besides, I had recognized several reporters I knew, and it would take only about three sentences before they’d realize it was my face behind the big hat and sunglasses. I planned to talk to them all soon enough, but it would be disastrous if they saw me now.

Thirty–two children were entered in the contest, I read in my packet. The meet was divided into different heats for children of different ages and abilities. Swimming was scheduled to start at one, but the Carnifice and Global sponsors had plenty of entertainment lined up for both before and after. Lacey Dowell was supposed to make an appearance, and the first three Virgin films were being shown in a tent behind the garage.

The event had grossed sixty–seven thousand dollars to be shared by three charities dedicated to children with disabilities, inner–city children, and children’s athletic programs. Carnifice Security and Global Entertainment had each contributed ten thousand dollars. It was a nice mediagenic event, and plenty of media was swarming about.

“Jennifer! They want us inside in five minutes to do a press conference.”