Callaway smiled and nodded, making a show of taking notes as he listened to the heir apparent of a Fortune 500 company rattle on about the lack of personal privacy in the twenty-first century. He was young and talkative, unlike the previous guests Callaway had questioned, but Callaway suspected this had more to do with his need for attention than any desire to help the FBI.

Its the privacy I like here, Aston was saying, swirling his cocktail so that the olives bobbed together like playful otters. All those paparazzi following me around, day in and day outits enough to make a grown man sick. But here? No cameras in my face, no microphones.

Just me with my pencil and notepad, Callaway answered agreeably. Lets get back to my earlier question about Candy Whitmore. Do you remember her?

Who?

Mr. Roths assistant?

Assistant? The man frowned. Well, if thats what he called her. All I know is she comes now and then for a private meeting with the boss.

Callaway jotted that down, pleased to have something actually worth recording. And when did you see her here last? he asked, pencil poised.

Aston pulled at his mustache. Two weeks ago, was it? Yes, thats rightI came out for the weekend. Id just been out on the Spring Breakershes one of the new hybrids; five decks, takes a crew of twenty-four to run her. You should see her in action. The Germans are real innovators.

It took Callaway a few moments to realize the young heir was talking about a yacht. You were saying something about Candy? he prompted.

Astons eyes lit up. He had forgotten. Yes, the assistant! Anyway, she was here around that time. Met with the BMOC for a little while, had a few drinks, and then took off.

Was anyone else with her?

Aston smirked. How do you mean, with her?

Callaway decided to rephrase his question. Did anyone arrive with her or leave with her?

No, not that I recall. But I was pretty wasted by then, so its tough to say. She usually came at night. Something about the way he shifted his eyes suggested to Callaway he had more to say.

Is there something particular you remember about that night?

Aston froze. Following his gaze, Callaway noticed Ferrero staring at them over a glass of whiskey, his eyes hard enough to strike sparks.

Thats about it, Aston said, nearly choking on an olive in his haste to finish his drink. If she comes back, Ill be sure to tell her youre looking for her.

The young heir mumbled something about the restroom and broke away before Callaway could stop him. Callaway considered following him (it would be easy enough to question him alone, if he truly was going to the bathroom), but decided it would be too obvious with Ferrero tracking his every movement. Besides, he had a suspicion the bathrooms might be bugged.