Out in the lobby, a bell tolled—the light, rapid announcement of a meal.
She retreated from the dining room and entered the passage just in time to hear footsteps on the nearby staircase, accompanied by the voices of men.
Devlin turned and slipped back into the dining room, realizing as she did that sound was now emanating from the double doors to the left of the fireplace.
Running water, dishes clanking—kitchen noise.
She scanned the dining room, saw no place to hide. A long dry sink was pushed flush against the west wall, the kitchen was occupied, and there was nothing larger than a potted spruce tree behind which to take cover.
People were coming, and her legs had begun to weaken. She felt a deep shuddering behind her knees.
Devlin did the only thing she could.
FORTY-FOUR
Through the forest of chair legs, she watched them come—disembodied feet and legs, at least half a dozen pairs, strolling into the dining room. They didn’t immediately take seats at the table, congregating instead at the dry sink, beckoned by the constellation of exotic glass bottles.
“Bloody Mary, Sean?”
“Absolutely.”
“Looks like we’ve got Diaka, Grey Goose, some Russian shit.”
“Gotta go with Diaka.”
Crouched under the table, she watched a man in khaki slacks standing at the dry sink, carving up a lime and twigs of celery.
“Want one, Zig?”
“No, I’m gonna sip on this Pasión Azteca. Can’t believe they scored a bottle of this tequila.”
“I didn’t even see that.”
“I’ll pour you one.”
Breakfast smells had begun to waft in from the kitchen—bacon, brewing coffee, eggs, frying pancake batter.
Someone said, “Boys, to decadence.”
Glasses banged into one another.
“Damn, that’s smooth.”
“Fuckin’ A.”
“You believe how much snow fell overnight?”
Footsteps could be heard from the passage, and Devlin glanced through the chair legs just in time to see a pair of boots and blue-jeaned legs stroll into the dining hall, followed by a voice that boomed over the others.
“Gentlemen! Welcome! Glad you all made it here ahead of the storm!”
The man stopped at the end of the table, his legs so close, Devlin could have reached out and touched them.
The other men drifted over from the dry sink, said their greetings—slap of hard handshakes, small talk of the raging blizzard.
“My brother, Paul, is working on a busted generator, so we probably won’t see him until lunch. But meantime, everybody have a seat, please.”
Devlin crawled toward the fireplace as the chair legs squeaked across the marble, legs swinging under the table, one boot nearly striking her face.
She settled just out of range of the nearest leg as that voice boomed again: “Everybody good on drinks?”
Grunts of affirmation.
“Breakfast will be out shortly, so let me officially welcome each of you to the Lodge That Doesn’t Exist.”
“Master keys, gentlemen. The south wing is your playground, and these open every door. Fourteen rooms on each floor. They’re not all occupied—we’re working on that—but many are. Peepholes are reversed, so feel free to browse. Redheads, blondes, brunettes. We have something for all tastes. We’ve even got a preggy on the fourth, if that’s your thing. Check the closets in your rooms. Should have a kimono hanging up, pair of sandals. I encourage you all to wear them for warmth and ease of access. Now, I’ve gotten blood work back from everyone, so you’re all good to go. Our women are healthy. Pristine. Protection’s not necessary is what I’m saying, but, of course, that’s entirely your call.”
“What if we want—”
“Why don’t you let me finish my spiel, Zig, as it’ll probably address any questions you have.”
“Sorry, of course.”
“Here’s our policy when it comes to your conduct with the women. You break it, you buy it. You injure someone so they have to be moved to the north wing to convalesce, we’re gonna assess you with appropriate damages. Now don’t misunderstand me. Follow your fancy, you twisted motherfuckers. No one’s telling you you can’t do anything you want. Seriously, go crazy. Just understand that on your last day here, there will be an accounting, and each of these women represents an investment of about one point five million. That’s our replacement cost.