Vince followed Keith toward the bar, still uneasy.
Keith smiled at him his usual smile.
"Oh, are you seventeen? Well, who cares? These people clearly don't!"
As they stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. The bar was dimmer, the walls covered in dark patterned fabric, lit softly by lamps that gave everything a warm orange tint. Nobody checked Vince as they entered, and the quiet hum of chatter filled the space.
They sat down by the counter. Keith bent forward, and put his elbows on the table.
"Well, Roe, I said, has there anything you want to know?"
Vince watched him a moment or two without saying anything. Then he drew his head nearer and said,
"When is Estill going to make his appearance?"
Keith gazed up to the ceiling and seemed to reflect. His tone changed to something serious and commanding when he spoke.
"That is classified information. You'd die knowing that."
Vince froze. His heart constricted and his palms became damp.
I'd die?
But then there was a sudden slap on the knee of Keith, and he laughed so that his shoulders shook.
"Ha! I'm just messing with you! I don't work with him. But, I heard, he will come to the ballroom in one half-hour and the other.
Vince looked at him with an expression of blankness and near indignation. Humiliation and vexation were gnashing in him.
Right. Of course.
He stayed quiet, hiding his frustration, but inside he wondered, What else does this guy know? How strong is he, really?
Vince, after a moment of silence, said in a low voice,"
Keith, what number of Stackers do you know are here in this mansion?"
Keith tapped his chin thinking.
"From what I've seen? Well, besides you, me, and Estill, there are maybe three others."
Only three? That would make six in total. But what about the guards?
"What about the guards outside?" Vince asked. "Are they Stackers too?"
Keith chuckled.
"No, not at all. Why would they be? The chances of a strong Stacker coming here to kill Estill are low. Sure, he's done plenty of things, but nothing personal enough for someone powerful to bother."
He sat back in his chair, his arms crossed and a blissful expression on his face.
"Enjoy yourself for a while. You might go up to your room, or hang around, or go up to the ballroom where Estill was going to enter. Do whatever you want. You can find me in room 689 in case you need me.
If I need him? Vince thought. Why, how beneficial might Keith be? He knew I was a Stacker, but that was all…
Still, Vince tried to relax. The clock appeared to drag at a very slow rate until at last an hour and a half elapsed.
He got out of the bar and went into the ballroom.
The space became open in front of him, huge and luminous. The white walls shone in the low light of huge chandeliers. The ceiling and the walls were covered with golden engravings, each of which represented an old historical figure. There were tall windows along the sides with the city lights and the pale moon coming through.
People were standing round the tables and the center floor, and their voices were mixed in a great sea of laughter and talk. There was a slight wine and polished marble odour in the air.
Vince sighed and walked in, and the sound of his footsteps was drowned in music and conversation.
The background was filled with music played by a live band that was playing in one of the corners. In the midst of the ball-room was the great staircase bending upwards to a high stand, at which the entrance of Estill would be made.
There were already several guards who stationed in the room. These were not the ones Vince had heard of on the planet of Earth. These were bigger, and constructed in muscle-like walls, so as to prevent trouble before it arose. And about them he felt something wrong.
Why are they not ever using their weapons? And why do they look so fake?
Vince threw himself to the extreme left wall, as far as he could get away. His pulse was pounding.
He clasped his hands over his head in an attempt to calm his breathing.
How am I supposed to pull this off? They really trusted me of all people! I'm so damn scared right now… I just want to run and never come back.
He shut his eyes, and allowed the beat of the music to flow through him.
Something came to him, the voice of Ara ringing in his ear. She had told him that in case he kissed the mark on his hand his revolver would come at once.
How could that possibly do here? A gun would bring everyone to the point of attention.
Another picture presented itself to him then, unwanted. The face of a woman, a stranger, or so someone that he had forgotten. Her hair was black, and her eyes were golden and glittering looking through the glass like the sunshine.
His chest tightened. He took his head, which was beating quicker.
Who the hell is she?
The music had stopped before he could make sense out of it. The babble of the audience died away. Footsteps were heard rattling in the room.
A tall man appeared at the top of the stairs, seemingly in his fifties. His short hair was black streaked with gray, slicked neatly back. A black tailcoat hugged his lean frame, and he leaned lightly on a polished cane. His dark green eyes swept across the crowd as he climbed the steps.
Once up to the top, he lifted himself up, and talked in a soothing yet strong voice.
"Good evening, gentlemen and ladies!"