Chapter 6: The Alley

Nobody in the ballroom knew what 5081 meant.

Three hundred people looked at the waiter, then at the girl in the crooked pink dress, and waited for somebody to explain.

Astrid kept her face still.

Everard Swinton set his glass on a passing tray.

"Remove that man," he said.

He did not ask what the number meant.

Astrid noticed that, and she kept it.

Four men in dark suits closed on Vaughn from both sides.

He did not fight them.

He looked at Astrid the whole time they walked him through the service door.

"Mother," Astrid said, "I need some air."

"Darling, wait, who was that?"

"A man who has the wrong party."

She was out of the room before Marguerite could say anything else.

The service corridor smelled of fryer oil and bleach.

At the end of it, a steel door swung on its hinge, and the alley beyond was loud with rain.

She found them under a dripping fire escape.

The four security men lay on the wet concrete in a row.

Vaughn stood over them, breathing hard, with one man's pistol in his hand.

"You didn't need to wait for me," Astrid said.

"I wasn't waiting for you. I was putting them down."

"They worked for the man who owns this house."

"Then he needs better men."

He ejected the magazine, dropped the pistol into a puddle and turned to face her.

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