We trek to the main door under a huge entryway made of beams and stones. It’s grandeur like Dash’s family would have, only maybe as a small winter cabin. I ring the bell, but nothing happens, no one comes.
“It looks closed for the season. Look, no tracks from snowmobiles or skis.” Henrico points.
“This place is pretty swanky. I think we might need a warrant.” Stanley knocks, listening with his ear against the door.
I press “redial” on my phone. “Get me a warrant to search the place too. It’s cold; hurry up.”
Antoine sighs. “It’s owned by—oh God. I’m going to need to clear this with the man upstairs. The owner is someone we all know well.” He puts me on hold.
I swallow hard, confused. I expected it would be Dick who owned it and it would be some sort of playhouse for him and maybe a couple of his rich, pervy friends.
Antoine comes back right away. “We have a warrant. It will expire in an hour. The owner will be notified by then, and his lawyers are better than ours, so expect it shut down.”
“Shit!” I look at Henrico. “We have an hour before this place is crawling with private security.”
Henrico shakes his head. “No, I don’t think we have an hour. Look at the security system on this place. Looks pretty feisty.” He points at the door and the globes of cameras mounted inside and out. There are fingerprint scanners mounted on the wall inside and out.
I squint and read the tiny label. “Minotaur Security. Antoine, what do we know about them?”
He sighs again. “That they set the house to explode if the triggers are messed with. You can’t pick the locks. It’s going to take a whole team of nerds to get you in there, and by then I suspect whatever you are looking for will be gone. Chances are you have triggered the system now just by landing and walking around.”
“Fuck! What are you good for?”
He chuckles. “Oh, Jane, you know I am far better than a team of nerds. Give me two minutes.” He hangs up on me.
My face is cold, my hands are frozen, and I suspect we are being recorded. I glance back at Stanley. “This is why I don’t get cocky and assume shit.”
He chuckles, rubbing his hands together. “Lucky you didn’t then, huh?” He winks. “How is there even this level of security on a hill like this one?” Stanley looks around.
“Satellite system run on solar panels.”
He gives me a dubious stare. “What if the weather turns to shit? Your system goes down?”
I shake my head. “This will have some storage for the power. Batteries that are charged for all the summer months, storing up for winter. They’ll go a long time without sunlight.”
“Man, I need that. My kids are killing us with the power bills.” Henrico gives us both a grin. “Teenagers.” He looks young to have teenagers. But I suspect he’s just got a baby face. Guys like him—agents or military or secret service—make me comfortable. I can handle myself and conversation with people like this. We all think the same. And we all expect to have one another’s back. It’s comfortable silence because we are all listening.
The door clicks several times, making us back up from it. Then it opens, and Antoine’s voice fills the air. “Jane, my dear, let me introduce you to the most advanced butler service in the world. Welcome to the Chateau Margolis.”
“As in Arthur Margolis, Her Majesty’s Principal Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change?” I ask, completely baffled that a Brit would own the property.
His voice fills the air around us. “Indeed. You have forty-nine minutes.”
Stanley doesn’t look like he wants to go in, and Henrico gives me a subtle headshake. “If we lose our jobs—”
“You guys wait here. I’ll be right back. If the security detail lands, distract them for me. I’ll meet you at the chopper in forty-eight minutes.” I turn and run into the beautiful chalet-style lodge. The main hall is a greeting area, lobby, and sitting room. There are large windows and expensive furnishings. The paintings on the wall are portraits of very important men. Some I recognize. Several of them the whole world would recognize.
I hurry down the hall, clearing bedrooms and steam rooms and corridors with finery in every corner. The main floor seems like guest quarters mostly. I run up the stairs to the top floor, where guest quarters continue but the rooms are all themed, with closets full of costumes to suit the bedrooms. My insides twist as each room gets a bit weirder. What starts with the circus, ancient Greece, and the Elizabethan age becomes a dungeon with cuffs and chains, a brothel, a harem, and a bare room with no windows.