She could try, Hali thought, but he remained quiet.
A few seconds later, Kiara groaned in frustration. “Why can’t I get a cell signal?”
“Maybe we’re out of range,” Hali said. But he knew the real reason. There was a cell phone jammer in the trunk to keep her from calling anyone or posting on social media while she was supposed to be at the party. But the jammer didn’t interfere with the signal from Hali’s earpiece that was routed through a satellite transmitter also in the trunk.
“Just turn around,” she demanded.
Hali nodded. “Yes, Ms. Jain. As soon as we’re off the causeway.”
“Can you believe this man?” she said to Guatam, who was trying to hide a crooked grin that Hali spotted in the mirror.
Halfway across the causeway, traffic slowed to a crawl because of an accident up ahead, the one that Hali had noted earlier.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Kiara screamed.
“Don’t worry, miss,” Hali said. “I’m sure I can get you there within the hour.”
“An hour! I can’t believe this!” Kiara threw up her hands in frustration and continued futilely tapping on her phone.
But Hali wasn’t talking to her. His message was for Eddie.
* * *
—
“Understood, Hali,” Eddie said into his own earpiece. He was in a Porsche SUV being driven by Tiny Gunderson, who was taking a break from his piloting duties. Linc was in the front seat, while Eddie was sandwiched between Raven and MacD in the back. All of them could hear that they now had their hour to break into Romir Mallik’s computer system.
They were just pulling up to his tower on Altamount Road, one of the
most exclusive neighborhoods in Mumbai. According to reports, Mallik had constructed the enormous five-hundred-foot-tall structure anticipating a large family before his wife died unexpectedly. Although it was bigger than many of the apartment buildings in the area, large enough to support a helicopter landing pad on the roof, Mallik’s vertical palace was a single home, and he was its only resident.
The grand underground driveway to the entrance was already packed with limos and high-end SUVs, but they moved along quickly as guests were swiftly escorted to a security station before being let into the elevator that would take them to the huge ballroom on one of the top floors.
When they reached the drop-off, Tiny said, “I’ll be close by. Just give me a shout when you’re on your way down, and I’ll be here before you arrive.”
Playing the part of the bodyguard, Linc got out and opened the door for Raven, who looked like a dead ringer for Kiara Jain, resplendent in her clingy turquoise sheath. All the men within twenty yards gawked at her as she took MacD’s arm and sashayed toward the metal detector. Eddie, who was wearing glasses that fed video back to Murph, was happy to see that since this was a private event, there were no paparazzi. He and Linc followed close behind them, dressed in tuxes that looked more like rentals than the tailored Armani that MacD wore.
Raven’s purse was searched, and all of the men had to put their phones in trays as they passed through the metal detector. A bevy of stern-looking guards surveyed the scene while the official greeters led them to the elevator after checking their IDs. Murph had broken into the security company’s computer system the day before and added their names to the list, and since they were with movie star Kiara Jain, nobody suspected anything was amiss.
At the top of the building, the elevator opened to the sound of hundreds of people talking over the music of a ten-piece band. The huge dance floor was already being put to use by some of the guests, while a massive table overflowed with delicacies from all over the country.
The biggest draw was the wide covered balcony that overlooked the Arabian Sea and downtown Mumbai. Many of the guests already seemed to be staking out spots to watch the sunset later in the evening.
Eddie activated the small tablet in his pocket and said, “Murph, we’re in. Get to work.”
“Already on it,” Murph said from his hotel room. Eddie could hear Murph’s heavy metal music pounding in the background and felt sorry for his neighbors.
A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne, and they each took one except for Linc, who maintained the dour expression of a wary guardian.
Before they could take their first sip, a pretty young Indian woman across the room waved at Raven and dragged the man beside her toward them.
“Oh, no. She recognizes me,” Raven said.
“It’s okay,” Eddie said. “We knew this would happen. Who is that, Murph?”
“Checking,” Murph replied. After a brief pause, he said, “That’s Prisha Naidu. She and Kiara were in a film together six years ago.”
As Prisha approached, Raven opened her arms and said with a perfect Indian accent, “Prisha! So good to see you.” Her adeptness at languages and uncanny impression of Kiara’s voice meant that they could ditch the laryngitis story.