“We find the deed before Nico knows we are even in the building.”

We left a stack of bills on the table and ran out into the cold Philadelphia rain.

The storm had emptied the streets, turning the asphalt into a dark mirror of neon signs.

My old station wagon groaned as I started the engine and threw it into drive.

Neither of us spoke as we navigated the slick streets toward the historic district.

The Marigold Room loomed at the corner of the block, its elegant green awning dripping with rainwater.

I bypassed the front entrance and drove down the narrow, cobblestone alleyway behind the building.

I killed the headlights and parked behind a row of industrial trash bins.

The rain hammered against the metal roof of the car like gravel.

“The kitchen staff usually leaves by eleven,” I whispered, looking up at the high, arched windows.

“Only Nico and his guards will be inside.”

“Where is the basement entrance?” Denise asked, clutching her leather briefcase to her chest.

“Around the side, near the old coal delivery chute,” I said.