Jet made her way toward the water side of the clubhouse, eyes searching for Leo as a ten-piece band in matching green silk jackets launched into a bouncy version of Prince’s “Kiss” to an indifferent crowd. Service staff in starched uniforms carried trays laden with canapés and glasses of champagne, vodka, and beer, dodging between the attendees with the practiced dexterity of ballroom dancers. Jet thought she saw Leo’s arctic white jacket near the picture windows and tried to move closer, but the dense crowd near the bandstand was blocking the way.
She edged past three men smoking imported cigarettes with the indifference that the elite in Russia typically demonstrated for rules that barred the practice, and spotted Leo speaking with an older woman in a floor-length cobalt blue formal gown that would have been at home on the red carpet of an awards show. Jet wasn’t worried about him recognizing her – with the heavy makeup and the hooker heels, her own mother would have had a difficult time doing so.
She had the pen she’d filched from Anton’s drawer in the prostitute’s clutch purse, the innocent-appearing implement a honed aluminum cylinder with a sharp end that could be driven through his eye or ear; but how could she get close enough to do it and escape? The obvious solution would be to get him alone, lured by her charms, and dispatch him somewhere private – she’d only need a second and he was a dead man.
A meaty hand grabbed her bottom from behind her and she nearly jumped, but resisted the urge to spin and knock the groper out, remembering her call girl cover story. Instead, she turned to find herself staring at a portly man with thinning white hair and a nose that was a tapestry of ruptured blood vessels only a lifetime of hard drinking could create. Beady pig eyes with heavy bags beneath them took her in and she angled her head at him. “Like what you see?” she asked.
“That’s quite a dress. Can I buy you a drink?” he asked.
“I’m waiting for someone to bring me one.”
“Oh. I thought you might be…looking for a friend.”
“I’m always looking for a friend,” Jet said, her emerald eyes sparkling. “But give me a few minutes, will you?”
“I’m Oleg,” the man said.
“Svetlana.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you.”
Jet moved away from Oleg and her hand slipped into the clutch purse as she neared the windows where Leo stood, facing the marina. The woman he was speaking with waved at someone across the room and excused herself, leaving Leo unattended for a few moments, looking out over the water, unaware of her approach. Jet pushed past two men laughing and patting each other on the back, and was only four long steps from Leo when she spotted a security man in the corner, his hands folded in front of him, eyes roaming over the room. Her hand moved from the purse and she waved at a nearby catering person carrying a tray of finger food. The woman approached, her face impassive yet telegraphing what she thought of being ordered over by a hooker. Jet ignored the expression and selected a thin slice of grilled bread with a processed meat roll tacked to it with a toothpick.
When she turned, Leo wasn’t there any longer – he’d moved closer to the bar and was talking to a dignified older man in a tuxedo with hair slicked back, his face the color and texture of a catcher’s mitt. She was closing on him when a female voice called from behind her.
“Svetlana?”
Jet didn’t turn around. She’d known there was always a risk that one of the other call girls would recognize her friend’s dress and sound the alarm, but she’d figured she could talk her way out of it. Jet moved toward the restrooms, ignoring the hooker, and was almost to the swinging door of the women’s room when the woman called out again. “Svetlana! Wait up.”
Jet pushed the door open and was relieved to see she was alone. The hooker appeared in the doorway and stopped just inside, confusion etched on her face. “Oh. Sorry. I thought you…” She took in the dress and her eyes dropped to Jet’s shoes. “What the fu–”
Jet’s lightning blow to the woman’s throat silenced her, and she followed it up with two strategically aimed strikes to the base of her neck. The hooker crumpled, unconscious, and Jet dragged her into the last stall. She was about to deliver another strike when she heard the bathroom door open and someone entered.