LAMONT AND MARGO were waiting in the lobby when Maddy burst back into the building. She was panting hard, her cheeks puffed out and red.
“Poison!” Maddy wheezed. “It’s poison!”
“What’s poison?” asked Lamont.
“The food! The feast!” said Maddy, getting the words out in small bursts. “They’re going to poison them. They’re going to kill everybody!”
Back in the corner, the women clustered around Ava and her baby looked up. Lamont took a step toward them.
“Stay here!” he said. “Do not move from this spot!”
Margo walked to the corner and gave Ava a kiss on the top of her head.
“Take care of that baby,” she said.
“I will,” said Ava. She reached out and grabbed Margo’s hand. She held on tight for a few seconds and squeezed.
“Thank you,” she said.
Margo smiled. Then she turned and followed Lamont and Maddy out the door. The crowd on the street was thicker now. Excitement was high. The screens along the route were now beaming the images of delicious food, with string symphony accompaniment.
Suddenly, all the screens went black and the speakers crackled with static. After a second, a live picture appeared. It was Gismonde. His smooth face almost filled the screen. At the sight of the world president, the crowd paused. Conversation stopped. Parents shushed their children. Mothers jostled infants in their arms to keep them from fussing. Up and down the street, people turned to the nearest screen.
Gismonde smiled warmly. He looked directly into the camera, his eyes clear and bright. His delivery was expertly paced, almost hypnotic.
“Today,” he began, “we celebrate our fertile fields and farms, our rich seas, and the bounty from around the world…”
Lamont moved closer to one of the screens. For this special event, Gismonde had picked his setting carefully. He spoke from an elegant desk. Behind him was a low stone arch of pink-veined marble. The world president was captivating and telegenic, but it was the background that caught Lamont’s attention. In a split second, he recognized the room. It was a place he hadn’t seen in more than a hundred years.
Lamont turned back to Margo and Maddy and tugged at their sleeves.
“Let’s go!” he said. “The bastard is in my wine cellar!”