Chapter 35

SATURDAY (The Party) - Part 2

As the evening evolved, the subtle glow of the chandeliers cast a soft light upon the elegantly dressed guests, forming an atmosphere of opulence and celebration. Jake and the girls gradually drifted apart, each blending into the animated crowd. Jake soon found himself ensnared by his stepfather’s business associates, their conversations a tedious drone that seemed to go on forever. He cradled his champagne flute delicately in one hand, the bubbles dancing up to the surface as he took measured sips. As he feigned interest in the boring conversation, his eyes roved the room, searching the sea of faces for his companions.

Emily had drawn a small circle of older male admirers, their eyes fixed on her as she mesmerized them with lively yarns that sent hearty laughter rolling through the group. Her animated expressions painted vivid images in the air, and the occasional light touch of her hand on an arm or a stroke of a cheek added a personal connection that kept them utterly enthralled. Franklin remained near, his gaze rarely leaving her figure.

Rachel slid through the swarming crowd with natural ease, her emerald dress shimmering with every step. She paused occasionally to admire the artwork on display or engage in brief, lively conversations with other guests. Several times, she vanished entirely, only to reemerge moments later in another section of the room as if by magic, her presence continually enchanting those around her.

Jessica was engaged in what looked like an intense conversation with Victoria near one of the massive fireplaces. The older woman’s initial frostiness seemed to have thawed slightly as Jessica motioned toward a nearby painting, clearly discussing its provenance with impressive knowledge.

Jake politely excused himself from yet another tedious conversation about stock portfolios and headed to the bar. On his way, Klara, the server with the ponytail, intercepted him and greeted him with a professional smile. “May I take your glass, sir?” she inquired, gracefully taking the empty crystal flute from his hand. As she did, she leaned in, pressed a small, hard object into his palm, and murmured, “Edmond Dantés.”

Jake’s eyes glazed over, a distant look overtaking his face as his hands curled tightly around the object. He turned and strolled out of the bustling hall, moving through a series of hallways to his stepfather’s private office. At the heavy mahogany door, he tapped a sequence of numbers into the keypad above the ornate brass handle. The lock clicked in acknowledgment. He opened the door and slipped inside. The office was decorated in deep leather and polished wood, the air tinged with the faint scent of vintage books. Jake shut the door with a quiet thud, locked it, and turned on the lights.

He made his way to the French doors leading to a picturesque exterior courtyard and found the small, glowing keypad next to them. Pressing a few buttons, he disarmed the alarm monitoring the door and turned the knob on the deadbolt, feeling a slight click as it unlocked.

Then he went to Franklin’s desk and tapped the spacebar to wake the computer, the monitor coming to life. The screen revealed an image of a naked young brunette woman, wearing glasses, stretched out languidly on a bed.

Jake located the USB port and inserted the object he’d been given. A small red light gleamed at the end of the USB stick. He stared blankly at the screen as a series of pop-up boxes appeared one after another, their windows rapidly scrolling through lines of indecipherable code before quickly vanishing. After a moment, the monitor displayed a comprehensive list of personal, business, and charity bank and brokerage accounts. With methodical precision, the program reduced each account balance to zero, swiftly transferring funds and holdings to untraceable offshore accounts. When the small LED on the end of the stick turned green, Jake removed the device and left the room robotically, flicking off the lights and locking the door behind him.

He wandered back to the party with a vacant, zombie-like stare, holding the USB stick. As he stepped into the lively, bustling room, resonating with laughter and the clinking of glasses, Klara immediately approached him. She gracefully exchanged the USB stick for a glass of champagne and leaned in to softly whisper, “Monsieur Zaccone.” The name jolted Jake’s consciousness back into sharp focus; he blinked several times and shook his head slightly, as if to dispel the fog clouding his mind. Observing his momentary disorientation, Klara asked with a trace of concern, “Are you alright, sir?”

Jake focused on the server and smiled, “Yes, thank you. Just a bit...” his words trailed off, and he took a sip of the champagne, savoring its crisp effervescence as his mind cleared completely. The strange disorientation quickly waned.

Rachel had just finished a dance with an older gentleman whose hands wandered more than they should when she noticed the server with the ponytail approaching Jake and taking his champagne glass. Knowing that was her cue, she politely excused herself with a practiced smile, though not without receiving another unwelcome squeeze on her bottom. Her eyes scanned the room, noting that Jessica was talking with Victoria, while Franklin seemed completely absorbed in watching Emily’s every move.