Sarah felt a little lightheaded. Her bare shoulders tingled and she could feel every inch of the body-hugging formal dress she had bought today in the modern district. She wished she and Rakkim were someplace alone. “What is it, Rikki?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re restless.”

Rakkim exchanged glasses with a passing waiter, used the opportunity to scan the room. “I feel like we’re being watched.”

“I’m sure we are being watched. That’s why people come to embassy parties: to look at other people and try to figure out what they’re really up to.”

“I don’t mean like that.”

“Well…we won’t stay long then.” Sarah felt the Chinese medallion tucked into a pocket of the gown. “Rakkim…when you promised Fancy’s girlfriend that you would kill Darwin, you were just saying that, weren’t you?”

Rakkim nodded as he took in the room.

“You were just making sure she would give us the medallion?”

“I’ve already told you that,” said Rakkim.

Sarah stared at him and couldn’t decide if he was telling the truth. “Dance with me.”

“Living dangerously, are we?”

“No.” Sarah took him by the hand, led him through the crowd. “I spotted the Chinese ambassador dancing with one of his concubines. The old letch has been giving me the eye since I was fourteen.”

A tray of tiny curried eels passed by at eye level, and Rakkim wished he could join them curled on their beds of ice.

Anthony Colarusso sat at the kitchen table in his boxers, slathering peanut butter onto white bread and wishing that Marie had stocked up before she’d left. The knife banged against the glass sides of the jar. Almost out. He had been living on peanut butter sandwiches and takeout ever since she and the kids had gone into hiding. The bread tore under his rough handling and he shook his head. Should have heated the peanut butter in the microwave, but he was no cook.

“Toast the bread, Pop, you won’t have that problem.”

Colarusso jumped up, knocked the chair over.

Anthony Jr. stood in the doorway from the cellar, laughing.

Colarusso ran to him, smacked him a couple times while the kid pretended to be hurt. “Trying to give me a heart attack, you little shit?”

Anthony Jr. put him in a bear hug, lifted him off the ground. Colarusso outweighed his son by eighty pounds, but the kid swung him around as if the beefy detective were one of those ballet dancers with the short skirts.

“Put me down!” Colarusso stood there in his polka-dot boxers, hands on his hips. “How did you get past Ames and Frank?” He picked his police-issue off the counter, thumbed the safety as he peeked out the kitchen window. “They’re supposed to be watching the place.”

“Come on, Pop, I’ve been sneaking in and out of this house since I was twelve. Couple of uniforms aren’t going to spot me.” Anthony Jr. sat at the table, ran a finger around the rim of the peanut butter jar, and put it in his mouth. “Couple of uniforms aren’t going to spot the guy who came to our front door either. Even if they do, they’re not going to stop him.”

Colarusso stayed standing. “You’re supposed to be with your mother and sisters.”

“Eight days with Cousin Charlotte was like eighty years in purgatory. She’s even a worse cook than Mom, and all she does all day is knit sweaters for dolls.” Anthony Jr. dipped into the peanut butter again. “They’re safe, don’t worry. A Christmas card once a year isn’t much of a connection to follow. Besides, this guy at the door, it was you he wanted.”

Colarusso hefted the pistol. “Well, I’m here if he wants to come knocking again.”

Anthony Jr. looked up at him. “I’m here too, Pop.”

“You’ve been taking dance lessons, Ambassador,” purred Sarah.

“No, but I have lost a little weight,” said Lao, the Chinese ambassador, dipping her, using the occasion to lightly bump bellies. A short, round, middle-aged man in traditional garb, silk slippers on his feet. A player almost since the changeover, Lao was a deadly trade negotiator for one of the two current superpowers. Only the Russian ambassador carried as much heft in the capital, and he had been called back to Moscow. “I believe it’s changed my center of gravity for the better.”

“Yes, I can definitely tell.”

“I was a bit surprised to see you here tonight with Soliman.” The mascara didn’t make Lao’s eyes any less piercing. “A nice boy, but I thought you had sent him on his way.”

Sarah smiled. “We’re just good friends.”

“Of course, you are.” Lao nodded toward where Rakkim hung on the periphery. “I see Redbeard sent along a bodyguard. It’s really not necessary. One of the many delights of the Swiss embassy parties is the minimal need for security. We all have an interest in maintaining a place for civilized pleasures without the petty concerns of state.”

“I’ll remember that next time, Ambassador, but you know my uncle. Nothing is more dangerous than a place of safety.”

“Does he insist you take your bodyguard to your soft, warm bed?” Lao laughed at his wit, eyes glittering. “Forgive me, Sarah. Chinese women are bold, and I forget the sensibilities of Islamic women.”

“Eighteen years in the capital and you forget?” Sarah gently chided him. “You’re a naughty boy, Ambassador.”

“Getting more naughty every year,” said Lao, spinning her faster. The light caught the sheen of sweat on his forehead. He smelled like lilacs. He slipped a fan out of a voluminous sleeve, waved it rapidly. “I do believe that Ambassador Kuhn has turned up the euphoria mist. I feel positively giddy.”

Sarah was grateful for the break in the music and strolled over to a quiet corner of the ballroom. “I have a favor to ask.”

Lao’s flirtatiousness was gone.

“I have a piece of jewelry I want to show you. A medallion from your own country. A small-town piece honoring the yearly plum festival.” Sarah laid the medallion in his hand.

Lao looked it over, shrugged. “It’s of no value. No apparent value.”

“I’m trying to find out what village it came from.”

Lao slipped the fan back into his sleeve, showed her a hard smile. “I’m a city boy.”

“I’d like you to keep the medallion,” Sarah said, closer now. “When you find out the village it came from, I think you should have the authorities start a search. There’s something in the vicinity of the village…something of great interest to all of us.”

Lao waved the fan, covering his mouth. “What exactly am I looking for?”

Sarah closed his hand around the medallion. “Radiation.”

CHAPTER 58

Rakkim woke up, rolled into a fighting stance.

Sarah closed the door behind her, swept into the room wearing a dark blue chador. “I didn’t want to wake you when I left.” She looked proud of herself for slipping out so quietly. She deserved to be.

They had taken a circuitous route back to the warehouse after the embassy affair. Rakkim was still certain that they had been watched at the party, but he was just as certain that they hadn’t been followed. Still exhilarated by the euphoria mist, they had made love for hours, tearing at each other, more interested in friction and heat than intimacy. She had dozed off afterward, but he had lain awake thinking of Mardi. She had disappeared from the Blue Moon two weeks ago, just as he had told her to do. Her cell was not in service, which was smart. She had done everything right. He hoped it was enough. Tired now, the bed warm and Sarah curled beside him, he had fallen asleep as the call to dawn prayers had echoed down the cobblestones. And dreamed of Mardi and Darwin nuzzling and sharing drinks at the Blue Moon while Rakkim struggled to make himself heard.

“You look so happy,” said Rakkim. “Did you call the Chinese embassy?”