"Are you interested in the details?" Rudy asked.

What I�m interested in, you son of a bitch, is dumping this drink in your face, setting you on fire, and shooting your charred corpse out of a cannon over the East River.

"Of course," she said brightly, setting her drink on the coffee table. "What�s the job?"

Travis retrieved an envelope from the back of his waistband and handed it over. "Shindig upstate on Friday night. You�re an attorney attending at the behest of your client."

The envelope was still warm from his body heat. Charley tried not to grimace as she thumbed through the contents: a satellite map of a sprawling estate in Annandale-on-Hudson, a ticket to the event, and a few details about her temporary identity.

"What am I bidding on?" she asked.

"No bids," Travis said. "This one�s a fundraiser for some kiddie art charity. A thousand bucks a head too. You�d think they were trying to adopt those fucking rug rats."

"You shelled out a grand for this?" Charley raised her eyebrows at her uncle. "Must be a pretty sure thing."

Rudy sprayed her with his machine-gun laugh. "Not a cent. That ticket is Travis� handiwork."

A forgery. Great. Let�s hope they�re not checking these against the guest list.

"According to our sources," Rudy said, "the estate is one of only a handful of private residences in the hamlet. It�s allegedly furnished with rare artifacts and art dating back to ancient times."

"The guy also collects vintage cars," Travis said.

"Sounds like you�ve got this one locked down." Charley stuffed the paperwork back into the envelope and tossed it onto the coffee table, retrieving her drink. "What do you need me for?"

"An inside look," Rudy said. From a leather folio, he pulled out a stack of surveillance photos and a detailed floor plan of the house. "We�ve got a good handle on the external points of entry," he said, pointing out the red Xs marked around the perimeter, "but we don�t know the precise security situation, or how many people have access. Preliminary surveillance suggests two groundskeepers, a cook, a driver, and at least three housekeepers on a rotating weekly schedule."

"How many residents?" she asked.

"One man, with only occasional guests, some of which may be there now."

"The alarm system was upgraded about six months ago," Travis said, pointing out a photo of a security company van parked in the driveway, a pair of contractors standing next to it. Charley wondered if the contractors were on Rudy�s payroll.

With so much intel, it was clear Travis and Rudy had already done a ton of digging.

She brought the drink to her lips, covering her frustration with a long pull. It was just like Rudy not to involve her until the last minute. That�s all she�d ever be to him�a pawn. If anything went south, she�d be the first to go down and the last to talk, because she had the most to lose.

Even more than the money, the penthouse, the credit card bill he paid without fail, Sasha�s life would always be Rudy�s true bargaining chip, and everyone in that room knew it.

"In addition to the security details," Rudy went on, "we need more intel about the cache itself. We�ve traced a lot of artwork to this location, but we can�t be sure exactly what�s there. When we go in�not if, but when�we need to be prepared for anything. We won�t get another shot."

Charley spread the photos out on the table, giving everything a closer look. The property featured a 20,000-square-foot Elizabethan manor home on fifty acres of lush gardens, with stunning views of the Hudson River and the Catskill Mountains beyond. There was also a massive garage, a guesthouse, and several smaller outbuildings, everything pristine and perfect.

It was breathtaking.

Also, a ridiculous amount of property for one man.

It was situated far away from the main roads. If Charley needed to make a quick escape, it wouldn�t be a simple matter of dashing out into the street and hailing a cab. JrNovels.com