Opposite the entertainment room was the dining room that held a black lacquer table with seating for eighteen. The same all-glass view except it was a different part of the city. The table had been set, complete with layers of dishes, shiny silver, and crystal stemware for white and red wine as well as for water. Not a speck of dust marred the table dressing. It was as if Holt were expecting the dinner party any moment, except there were no kitchen smells, no sign of life, period.

The butler bade him forward until the hallway ended in double brass doors. The butler pushed a button and they were both buzzed in.

The master bedroom suite appeared to be a thousand square feet, having the same views and more artwork. A self-contained unit, it had its own mini-kitchen complete with fridge and stove as well as its own entertainment unit. It had couches and chairs and loveseats and chaises. But its centerpiece—literally in the center—was a platform king-size bed topped with a brown suede cover. King-size suede pillows leaned against an ebony headboard. Against the pillows lay Holt, clad in blue silk pajamas. They hung on his thin frame. His mocha-colored face was small and round, the skin stretched over prominent cheekbones and a wide-bridged nose. He had dark brown eyes and black hair that was cropped close to the scalp. Fuzzy socks were on his feet. Around him were piles of papers, two laptop computers, several cell phones, one plugged-in land phone, and an electronic ticker-tape machine—neon green symbols flying past Decker’s eyes.

“Foreign markets.” Holt typed as he spoke. He also had to scream because the music was so loud. “God made twenty-four time zones so that there would always be some stock market to watch.” He looked up and smiled. “I’m being humorous. Have a seat, Lieutenant Decker. You don’t mind if I work while we talk? I’m quite adept”—type, type, type—“at juggling multiple tasks. Besides…” A cell phone rang. He answered it, whispered orders, then hung up. “I don’t think we’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“I can barely hear you.”

“I can hear you just fine.”

The man had no intention of turning the music down. Decker yelled, “Can I sit on the edge of the bed?”

“Certainly.”

Magically, the music dropped a notch. Surprised, Holt looked up and saw the butler a few feet from the entertainment area. Holt was about to speak, then thought better of it.

The butler said, “Anything I can get you, sir?”

“Uh, yes, George. Two teas…” To Decker, “Is tea all right?”

“It’s fine.”

“Earl Grey, George. Decaf please. It’s late-ish, isn’t it? I have no idea what time zone I’m in. But I see it’s almost dark. What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty, sir.”