An explosive charge tore the suite door from its frame. The blast threw me against the wall. Smoke and splintered wood filled the room.
Armed figures in black entered through the opening. The first checked the unconscious buyer. Another knelt in front of me, visor lowered.
"Chloe Xavier?"
I nodded.
He wrapped a coarse blanket around my shoulders. "We're getting you out. Stay with me."
In the corridor, tactical officers shouted room numbers and secured doors. Bullet holes marked the mahogany walls.
We reached the main staircase. Below, the bidders lay facedown beneath the ballroom chandeliers, wrists bound with plastic ties. Champagne and broken glass covered the deck.
Madame Helga stood near the bar with a small silver pistol. She raised it toward an officer.
Several muffled shots
