was not his practice to leave any evidence behind. Luther took one deep
breath, then opened the portal. The shrill beep of the security system
met him instantly. He quickly moved into the enormous foyer and
confronted the alarm panel.
The automatic screwdriver whirled noiselessly; the six metal pieces
dropped into Luther’s hands and then were deposited in a carrier on his
belt. Slender wires attached to Wit flashed against the sliver of
moonlight seeping through the window beside the door, and then Luther,
probing momentarily like a surgeon through a patient’s chest cavity,
found the correct spot, clipped the strands into place and then flipped
on the power source to his companion.
From across the foyer, a slash of crimson stared down at him. The
infrared detector had already locked on Luther’s thermal offset. As the
seconds ticked down, it patiently waited for the security system’s
“brain” to pronounce the intruder friend or foe.
Faster than the eye could follow, the numbers Bashed across Wit’s
digital screen in neon amber; the allotted time blinked down in a small
box at the top-right-hand corner of the same screen.
Five seconds elapsed and then the numbers 5, 13, 9, 3 and 11 appeared on
Wit’s tiny glass face and locked.
The beep stopped on cue as the security system was disarmed, the red
light flashed off and was replaced with the friendly green, and Luther
was in business. He removed the wires, screwed the plate back on and
repacked his equipment, then carefully locked the front door.
The master bedroom was on the third floor, which could be reached by an
elevator down the main first-floor hallway to the right, but Luther
chose the stairs instead. The less dependent he was on anything he did
not have complete control over the better. Getting stuck in an elevator
for several weeks was not part of his battle plan.
He looked at the detector in the corner of the ceiling as its
rectangular mouth smiled at him, its surveillance arc asleep for now.
Then he headed up the staircase.
The master bedroom door was not locked. In a few seconds he had his
low-power, nonglare work lamp set up and took a moment to look arount
The green glow from a second control panel mounted next to the bedroom
door broke the darkness.
The house itself had been built within the last five years; Luther had
checked the records at the courthouse and had even managed to gain
access to a set of blueprints of the place from the planning
commissioner’s office, it being large enough to require special blessing
from the local government as though they would ever actually deny the
rich their wishes.
There were no surprises in the building plans. It was a big, solid house
more than worth the multimillion-dollar price tag that had been paid in
cash by its owner.
Indeed, Luther had visited this home once before, in broad daylight,
with people everywhere. He had been in this very room and he had seen
what he needed to see. And that was why he was here tonight.
Six-inch crown molding peered down at him as he knelt next to the
gigantic, canopied bed. Next to the bed was a nightstand. On it were a
small silver clock, the newest romance novel of the day and an antique
silver-plated letter opener with a thick leather handle.
Everything about the place was big and expensive. There were three
walk-in closets in the room, each about the size of Luther’s living
room. Two were occupied by women’s clothes and shoes and purses and
every other female accoutrement one could rationally or irrationally
spend money on.
Luther glanced at the framed prints on the nightstand and wryly observed
the twenty-something “little woman” next to the seventy-something
husband.
There were many types of lotteries in the world and not all of them
state-run.
Several of the photos showed off the lady of the house’s proportions to
almost maximum degree, and his quick examination of the closet revealed
that her dressing pleasures leaned to the downright sleazy.
He looked up at the full-length mirror, studying the ornate carvings
around its edges. He next surveyed the sides. It was a heavy, nifty bit