“…I sold the company and got ready to live the dream,” Hatch continued. “I went shopping for a Lamborghini and called a couple of yacht dealers. But fate intervened. I discovered that I no longer cared so much about expensive toys. I was drawn to the relationship between light and art…”
Sophy studied the two striking Valkyries standing on either side of the stage. They appeared to be identical twins and they had gone to extreme lengths to make the point. Each had to be nearly six feet tall. Each had her hair done up in a severe chignon. They looked fit and toned in a way that indicated they took their gym workouts a lot more seriously than she did hers. Their tuxedos had an Armani edge.
Beneath the cover of another round of laughter and applause, Sophy leaned close to Luke and whispered into his ear. “Hatch may have ditched the fast cars and the yachts, but it looks like he was able to fulfill his dream of dating beautiful women. I’m guessing he goes for the dominatrix type. Got to admit those two blondes make the outfits look good. I wonder if they carry little whips.”
When she straightened, Luke leaned in and whispered back. “The blondes are carrying guns under those tux jackets, not whips. You’re looking at Hatch’s personal security team.”
Startled, she took another look at the two women. “Are you sure?”
“I’m in the security business, remember? I can recognize other people in the same line.”
Onstage, Hatch concluded his welcome speech.
“…Rather than stand here for another hour and lecture you on the astonishing works that our artists in residence have created, I invite you to immerse yourself in the Art of Light Experience. The Maze Gallery is now open for your viewing pleasure.”
Another, shorter round of applause punctuated the announcement.
“A word of warning,” Hatch continued. “For your own safety, please stay on the illuminated path inside the gallery. Decades ago, the eccentric art collector who built the house transformed it into an elaborate maze. He is said to have died there. Got lost in his own private puzzle. History repeated itself a couple of years ago when the last owner died inside. So stick to the path or I guarantee you will spend a long night wandering into dead-end corridors.”
That generated nervous laughter from the audience.
Hatch smiled. “We would, of course, find you eventually, but it would take a while. Enjoy the exhibition, and remember, most of the pieces will be presented at the auction that will be held three days from now. All proceeds will go to charity.”
There was another round of applause.
“Let’s go,” Luke said quietly.
“Fine by me.”
They made their way out into the brightly illuminated night and followed a glowing path toward the sprawling house that served as the gallery. The evening was cool. Sophy pulled her light silk wrap more snugly around her shoulders and took a couple of peeks at Luke in his black jacket. He looked good in it, she decided. Not better than he looked in the leather bomber—just alittle different. The garment took him from standard-issue CIA assassin to James Bond status.
“You don’t look anything like Hatch’s security team,” she said.
Luke’s mouth twitched. “One sentence into this conversation and I’m already lost. Care to explain?”
“The Valkyries looked like they were wearing costumes.”
“Valkyries? Never mind. Those tuxes aren’t costumes. They’re uniforms.”
“Whatever. My point is, you make that black outfit look good.”
“Thanks. I told you, there’s a dress code for assassins.”
“You will note that I am not amused.”
“Noted. By the way, you make that slinky black slip look terrific.”
“Thank you. It’s not a slip. No one wears slips these days. It’s a dress. Thanks for the compliment. There’s a dress code for professional con artists, psychic grifters, and cat burglars.”
“Good to know,” Luke said. “We’re even now, right?”
“Sort of. Sheesh. This is creepy, isn’t it?”
“Trash-talking each other’s career paths?”
“No, the gallery. It looks like a haunted house,” she said.
Luke snorted. “Have you ever actually seen a haunted house?”
