The place was beautiful. The hostess stand—mahogany and covered with a red velvet runner—fronted a room full of tables that were set to look like they were in the middle of conversation pits. The seating was all black velvet booths that curved around the tables. Some were large; some were smaller, more intimate.

She quickly discovered Dan had made a reservation as they were greeted by a pretty young blonde in a form-fitting white velvet dress.

They were led to one of the intimate booths. A sommelier arrived at their table with the wine list. Dan glanced at her, and she knew he didn’t want wine but thought maybe they should order some for appearances.

He asked the sommelier for a recommendation. Dan, smiling, accepted his suggestion for a moderately priced bottle of red after consulting with Katie.

She didn’t want wine, either; she wanted to watch. But she smiled and agreed that the body and essence sounded fine.

Their server appeared next. It wasn’t Neil Browne; it was an older man, impeccable in his white jacket, pleasant in his manner.

But even as he described the various specials, Katie tensed.

She wasn’t sure...but there was a waiter back toward the door, speaking with a group of five who were seated at one of the larger pits, and he looked familiar. If it was Neil Browne, he’d changed a lot...but he used prosthetics. No one knew what was real about him and what was not. He was a chameleon.

She fumbled to grab Dan’s arm as he politely listened to their server.

“Excuse me,” she said to the waiter. “Dan!”

She pointed.

But as she did, the man turned to look at her, almost as if he had sensed her watching him.

He dropped his tray on the table, along with the five drinks on it. The group cried out in dismay, jumping up, trying to avoid the spill of beverages, some milky, some clear, all sliding and sluicing across the table and threatening their clothing.

The man bolted out the door. Dan proved his agility, leaping over their table to tear after him with a startling speed. He yelled over his shoulder to her, “Call Axel!”

But near the door, he found himself blocked, colliding with the disgruntled customers in the way of the exit, who were still trying to sop up the liquids staining their clothing, complaining loudly and vociferously. To complicate matters, the elegant young hostess left her stand...and blocked the exit as well as she tried to calm the patrons despite her own confusion.

Dan made his way through. Katie followed, more slowly slipping through the crowd now at the door. She dialed the phone and listened to it ring as she excused herself, pushing through.

A bizarre thought occurred to her.

Luckily, the wine hadn’t arrived. They weren’t running out on a check.