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and decorated with abstract art, swirls of paint drippings on canvas in the style of Jackson Pollock. Kate squinted at one of the paintings and saw Pollock’s signature.
    “Is this the real thing or a forgery?” she asked.
    “You’ll know if it’s in my luggage when we leave.”
    There were plenty of inviting leather-wrapped couches and easy chairs, a wet bar, a sixty-five-inch flat-screen TV, a stacked-stone fireplace, and a Steinway grand piano.
    “Well, this explains the on-call concert pianist,” Kate said.
    “I was wondering about that myself,” Nick said. “There are his and hers bedrooms and boardrooms on either end of the penthouse.”
    “Boardrooms?”
    “You never know when you might want to hold a meeting with your personal staff.”
    Kate checked out a bedroom. It was the size of her entire apartment. There was a couch, two easy chairs, a fireplace, a flat-screen TV, and a massive king-size bed covered with fluffy pillows and a thick comforter. The marble-tiled bathroom had a steam shower built for two, a whirlpool tub, and a massage table.
    “Decadent,” Kate said.
    “Yeah,” Nick said. “I especially like the furry pillows. I’m guessing Mongolian lamb. Or maybe a rabbit on steroids.”
    Kate peeked into the private boardroom. There was a long conference table for eight, another flat-screen TV, and another bar.
    “I feel a sudden desire to have a meeting,” Kate said.
    “Yeah, I’ve got some sudden desires, too,” Nick said. “They have to do with the dress you’re wearing and how fast I could get you out of it.”
    Kate looked down at herself. “It’s not that easy. I’m stuffed into this like a bratwurst.”
    “I like a challenge,” Nick said.
    “Not this one. It would come with pain. Possibly a broken bone.”
    “I’m not really into pain,” Nick said. “Especially if it’s mine.”
    “You need to focus,” Kate said. “This is all about the mission.”
    “There’s all kinds of missions,” Nick said.
    —
    But first it was all about the buffet. Kate loved buffets. And the one at Côte d’Argent was spectacular. She brought two plates with mountains of food on them back to her booth, where Nick sat with an iced tea and a small Caesar salad.
    “I don’t know what we’re doing here,” Nick said. “We have a private chef.”
    “It’s not the same as a buffet,” she said, digging meat from a crab leg with a tiny fork. “This is all-you-can-eat. And you can make last-minute choices. And there’s all this
stuff.
”
    “Quantity and quality are not the same things.”
    “I grew up on Army bases, eating in canteens where food was basic. And now that I’m on my own I mostly eat out of a fast-food container. Getting access to a buffet, even a bad one, is like someone handing me a free pass to heaven.”
    Nick smiled wide. “You’re equating a buffet to heaven?”
    “Okay, so maybe not heaven. Maybe to Disneyland.”
    Nick watched her clean off both plates. “Where do you put it all?”
    “I have a very fast metabolism,” she said, dabbing her lips with a napkin. “Did I spill anything on myself?”
    He looked her over. “Not a drop or a crumb.”
    “Then we’d better get to the casino before my good luck fades.”
    They left the buffet and crossed the casino toward the high-limit room. It was separated from the rest of the casino by partially drawn red curtains.
    “Tonight we’re playing blackjack,” Nick said. “We’ll take a table for ourselves. There are five seats. I’ll play three hands at once and you’ll play two.”
    “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. I could lose twice as much twice as fast.”
    “Win or lose, it doesn’t matter. What we’re trying to do is attract attention as whales with money to burn.”
    The walls of the salon were covered with hand-stitched leather and framed with dark wood. There were eight gaming tables and only seven men gambling. Four of them were at the same table, playing pai gow poker, the other