CHAPTER EIGHTEENThe elevator rose without a sound or any sense of motion.
An attendant in the elegant lobby had been expecting him when he asked for Madame Amadoro’s penthouse and led him to this unmarked elevator, where he pressed a hidden release, high in a decorative metal column, to open the elevator door. Three buttons on a panel, in the elevator, marked Penthouse, Lobby, and Garage. He had pressed Penthouse.
The elevator was like an exquisite jewel box. Mirrored walls with an antique French settee upholstered in golden silk and a thick carpet of darker yellow. Shaded crystal electric fixtures.
Ash glanced at himself in the mirrors. He’d gone home to shave and shower. Selected a dark gray linen suit he had bought last summer in London. White shirt and a favorite silk tie with pale
