They were not just dealing with a man of money, Harley realized, but of powera power he clearly enjoyed demonstrating to anyone he allowed into his world.

And what happens, she wondered, when someone threatens that power?

The man in the black suit pulled up behind them in his golf cart, then got out to lead them past the pool, where men in swimming shorts and Hawaiian shirts reclined on sun chairs or floated in the water, sipping on beers and talking in small groups. Young women in bikinis, each of them with fashion model figures, emerged from a door with trays of drinks and hors d'oeuvres, while others flirted with the men, laughing and playing with their hair.

The conversations fell silent, however, as the agents walked by. Only the music went on playing.

Its like we just walked onto the stage of a live production, Harley murmured to Callaway, feeling as out-of-place as if they had been a pair of stray cats.

They entered the villa through a pair of sliding glass doors. After walking down a hallway lined with marble columns and portraits of such military leaders as George Patton, Otto von Bismarck, and Napoleon Bonaparte, they climbed a set of carpeted stairs that corkscrewed upward.

Its like a Medieval castle, Harley murmured. She sensed the magic of this place creeping up on her, and she had to remind herself why they had comenot for a tour, but to find justice for three murdered girls. Still, the villa was breathtaking.

Castle, si, their guide said. Señor Roth was very… cómo se dice…spirit? Spirited?

Inspired? Callaway suggested.

Inspired, si! By the old world, you see.

I thought he was from California, Harley said.

He traveled much, the man answered.

What line of business is he in?

Productos farmaceuticos. I believe you say drogas.

Pharmaceuticals, Callaway murmured.

Their guide nodded. Si, si.

They followed the staircase all the way up to the second floor, where they entered a room flanked by a number of oak doors. Heavy curtains blocked most of the light, and the furniture was dark as well, giving the room a somber, subdued atmosphere. The scent of tobacco hung heavy in the air.

Crossing the room, they passed through another set of glass doors and discovered a broad balcony jutting out toward one of the villa walls. The balcony itself had been turned into a carpeted driving range. In the center stood two figures: one tall, thin, and white; the other short, round, and dark, possibly Mediterranean. The tall one was lining up a tee. He had a cigar in his mouth and a pair of aviator shades. The short man sat in a chair a few paces away, hands folded over his portly stomach.