Page 110 of Morally Corrupt

"Look for dust," I say and head behind his desk, where a massive floor-to-ceiling block of furniture houses a bust of Machiavelli. My hand feels for the back of the statue, and there is indeed dust. I take out a bug and place it at the base of the figure.

"One down." I turn to see Adrian crouching on the floor at the desk's foot, where the study's feet seem to be slightly uneven.

"You think there's enough space?" I stoop down to see what he's doing. There clearly isn't enough space for a hand to place the bug.

"Wait," I say and remove the obsidian blade from my thigh. "This should be just about thin enough."

Adrian takes the knife from my hand and carefully places the bug, adhesive side up, on the blade.

Carefully, he lowers it and inserts it in the crevice. The fit is very tight, but with a little pressure, the bug remains in place when he withdraws the knife.

It's not visible either. I sigh in relief. The less time we're in here, the better. Now that it's all done, we can leave before we're caught.

"Let's go." I nod my head towards the door, and Adrian follows me. Opening the door slightly, I look to see if there are people in the hallway, leading him out with me when I realize it's empty. It's only when we're once again close to the ballroom that tension drains from both our shoulders.

I look at him with a conspiratorial grin that he returns, and we high-five.

"What has you so giddy, lovebirds?" Enzo surprises us from behind.

"Nothing much," Adrian replies. "Is the man Jimenez sent around here? I'd like an introduction," he continues, and Enzo's mouth immediately curls up in disgust.

"He's around here somewhere. Unpleasant fellow if I may say so myself." He shakes his head before continuing, "I tried talking to him when he arrived, and he had the gall to tell me he's not here to socialize. I am the host!" Enzo exclaims, clearly scandalized that his Italian etiquette has been breached.

"I thought the whole purpose of this was diplomacy," Adrian adds, and Enzo agrees.

"It was supposed to be. Clearly, they had other ideas. I made sure to have someone follow him, though. Just in case he decides to do something." Enzo pats Adrian on the back and leaves us. I can clearly see this situation bothers him; he doesn't even try to flirt with me.

"Too bad you don't know who to look for," I say.

"Since we've fulfilled our purpose here, we might as well go," he adds, clearly disappointed that he didn't manage to meet Jimenez's substitute.

He puts his hand at my lower back and leads me towards the exit. We're in the foyer when a shrilling scream explodes from the west wing of the house. Even with the overlapping voices engaged in conversation throughout the house, the shriek is loud enough to jolt everyone to attention. Both Adrian and I look at each other before we spring into action, going towards the direction of the sound.

Going deeper into the west wing, we follow the other people in front of us until we notice a small crowd in front of the study with Enzo in front of the door, trying to tell people to keep their distance. His jaw tightens when he sees us, but he calls us over.

"There's no way to say this." Enzo starts, and he looks as if he's trying to find his words. "Maybe only Hastings should go in."

Wait, what? What's going on?

"What's happening?" Adrian asks, and Enzo grimaces.

"There's a body in the study."

"A body?" My eyebrows shoot up. "We're going in," I declare, and Enzo might have wanted to add something, but I already push past him and open the door.

What greets me is a sight I don't think I'll ever forget. I wish I had a polaroid camera, really, to immortalize this. It's like all my childhood dreams come true, but a little bit bloodier. Remembering the small camera embedded in my purse, I slightly angle it to capture the mess on the floor.

I'll print this later.

As I focus on the scene before me, the first thing I notice is the bodiless heart, lying a few steps away. A trail of blood leads from the heart to the corpse.

The body had been put in a sitting position on the floor and propped against the study. The shirt is gaping, revealing a big hole in his chest where the heart used to be. Higher still is the centerpiece. A big T is carved on the forehead of the man.

My eyes quickly scan the body for other signs of injury, curious about the cause of death. Adrian's nudge makes me realize that Enzo had closed the door behind us and is looking at me expectantly.

He probably wants me to burst into tears or hysterics.

"Can't say I'm surprised my father died a traitor's death," I add drily, and both men frown at me.

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