Together they stepped up to the marble-topped counter. While Tristan vied for the attention of one of the hotel staff, Marissa’s gaze roamed around the lobby. As usual, it was crowded. High tea in the elegant lobby had been a tradition at the Peninsula for over half a century. Jeweled women and men dressed to the nines were seated at cloth-covered tables. Waiters with white gloves scurried back and forth from the kitchen. Trolleys of confections and pastries were wheeled through the elegant set. Classical piano music provided the ultimate touch.

Suddenly Marissa’s grip on Tristan’s arm tightened enough for him to wince. “Tristan!” Marissa gasped. “There is a man coming this way. A man that I think I recognize.”

Marissa’s eyes had originally passed over this man as just another face in the crowd. But then her mind had forced her eyes back to look at him more closely. There was something about his face and the way he wore his coal-black hair that had jogged her memory. She’d watched him put down his paper and stand up. She’d seen him look at her and then start across the room. She’d seen his hand go inside his jacket. That had been when she’d gripped Tristan’s arm.

“Who’s that, luv?” Tristan asked.

“He’s headed our way,” Marissa whispered. “The Chinese man in the gray suit. I’ve seen him before. I think he’s the man who threw the chum in the water when Wendy died!”

Tristan’s eyes swept the lobby. There were so many people. But he quickly picked out the Chinese man elbowing his way through the milling crowd. His right hand was thrust into his jacket. He appeared to be holding something.

Tristan sensed danger was at hand. There was something volatile in the way the man was approaching them. Tristan felt he had to do something. There was no time to flee, especially with the crowds pressing in on them. Behind him he could hear the assistant hotel manager calling his name. The Chinese man was only ten feet away. He was almost on them. He seemed to be smiling. The hand in his jacket started to move. Tristan saw a glint of metal.

With a high-pitched yell, Tristan pushed off the hotel desk and tackled the man. In the last instant before he made contact, Tristan saw the gun coming from beneath the man’s lapel, but Tristan collided with the man before he had pulled the gun free. The force of Tristan’s momentum carried them both backward to slam into a large round marble-topped table. The table tipped over, sending china and cakes flying in every direction. The eight people who’d been seated at the table were hurled to the floor.

In an instant, panic spread. What had moments ago been a scene of utter decorum now gave way to pandemonium. People scattered, some screaming, others simply running for cover.